Live To Regret It
by morgana07
Summary: Solo story. A visit to Bobby's after Dean is hurt brings a chance encounter. Dean learns of a secret Sam has and reacts in typical Dean style. Set S5 after they start hunting together again. Tension builds. Hurt/Sam,Angsty/Protective Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Live To Regret It**

**Summary: ** Visiting Bobby after Dean is hurt on a hunt an accidental encounter brings back bad memories for Sam. When Dean learns the reason for his little brother's reaction, all bets are off and someone learns what it means to mess with a Winchester. Hurt/Sam with some over protective/Dean on the side.

**Warnings:** It's rated T for language since we are talking Dean in a bad mood and also for mentions of abuse.

**Pairings: **None and never fear as I don't do slash ever.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters (which can be depressing), just borrowing them with harm to none or at least I try to fix when I do harm them.

**Tags:** No tags but may contain spoilers for Season 5 as this is based in that season and would have happened after the boys started hunting together again.

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**Chapter 1**

"Dean! Dean, boy, you had damn well better answer me!"

Bobby's gruff voice could be heard shouting but it went ignored as the man who was being shouted for continued to sit with his back against a wall, eyes closed to avoid looking at the mess around him but it didn't help to stop him from seeing other things.

Keeping his green eyes closed didn't stop the visions of the past 24 hours from assailing his every thought. It didn't keep him from seeing his broken little brother, a man who Dean had begun to think was impervious to any emotional pain since finding out he's set Lucifer free, started the Apocalypse (alright, Dean still took part of the blame for that) and is supposed to be destined to be the Devil's meatsuit.

No, Dean had forgotten how small and fragile his huge little brother could be and had been since the day they arrived at Bobby's for some simple R&R between hunts and avoiding both annoying Angels and and King of Demons himself. A simple damn visit and it had all turned sour the moment they walked in the house. The visit went south and Dean's world, which he freely admitted sucked right then, took a turn that left him feeling something he hadn't felt since before he'd made his deal. Cold rage.

Dean still felt the stitches in his side and left leg pulling but ignored them as he had been so he could take a breath and felt the new wounds ache as well. Knuckles bled, he knew he'd have one hell of a good black eye come the morning but he couldn't complain about those…not when he considered how the other guy fared.

Opening his eyes finally, he glanced up at the sound of the wheelchair coming closer and he started to wonder how Bobby had even gotten to him when the sound of soft wings close by and the sight of a trench coat from the corner of his eye answered that. "Hey, Cas, you ratted me out to Bobby, didn't you?"

"I do not understand that phrase since you suffer from a fear of that rodent why I would bring one to Bobby after…" Castiel was frowning as he looked around the small back room in the run down cabin. "Dean…what happened here?"

Before he could decide if he wanted to reply, Bobby Singer's gruff voice was heard even before he rolled into the room.

"Stupid, hot-headed, impulse idgit!" he snapped, glaring at the younger hunter even before he took in the room. "Boy, what the hell did you do?"

The little bit of furniture that had been in the room, a worn bed, dresser, small table, had all been broken it what looked to have been one hell of a fight. The floor was covered in dropped weapons, a knife here, a bat over there but what caught Bobby's attention, other than the way too calm Dean Winchester, were the photographs that also littered the floor.

Castiel had been looking around the room as if seeking a reason for his friend's sudden rash actions when Bobby finally sat back in the chair with something close to a grunt.

"Where's he at, boy?"

Dean merely lifted a hand to motion a little bit away from them where, in another pile of debris of filth, laid a body of man.

The body was of a man in his early forties with unruly red hair. He was covered in more bruises than Dean had but it was the knife that still stuck in his chest that told how he had fared in the confrontation.

While Bobby looked on grimly, Castiel finally knelt down next to the eldest Winchester, his puzzlement clear in his eyes. "Dean, why?" he hadn't understood Dean's sudden departure anymore than he had Sam's current situation when he'd been called by Bobby to help the older man find Dean. "Why did you kill this man? Are you hurt? Was he a minion of…"

Finally Dean lifted his head so he could look at the Angel, an expression in his eyes that Castiel could not recall seeing before as he regarded him even as Bobby plotted a way to ditch the body. "I'm not hurt, Cas," he reassured the Angel then added with a grunt. "Not much anyway."

"Then tell me why this…"

"He touched my brother," Dean cut him off, voice deep with something he'd long since sought impossible for him to feel any longer. The old feelings of rage and the need to protect his baby brother. "You know as well as anyone, Cas, that anyone who touches Sammy will live to regret it."

_A/N: This is in one of those moments in Season 5 that the boys are having an on/off brother moment so stay tuned for Chapter 1 to see what brings Dean to this point…I know I swear I'm too mean to Sammy and I don't mean to be. Reviews welcome._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**24 Hours Earlier:**

"This is like so totally unnecessary, dude," Dean Winchester was still complaining from where he sat reluctantly in the passenger seat. "A couple days in a motel with my leg propped up, antibiotics, some pain meds…or whiskey and I'll be as good as new. We do not need to crash Bobby's place like…"

"We tried the motel way, Dean, and a day into it a damn lake monster tried to drown you," Sam reminded him shortly, pulling off the main road to take the turnoff into Singer Salvage while shifting a concerned look over at his brother. "Now, aside from a bullet wound in your left leg, you've also got a wound on your back from that thing along with water in your lungs, a cracked rib and…"

A hand waving him off cut off the litany of wounds the eldest Winchester had as he slumped back in the seat to try to ease the pain in his back that he was determined Sam would not know was bothering him. "It wasn't a lake monster either," he argued stubbornly. "Just a really big water spirit or something."

"Yeah?" Sam removed one hand from the Impala's wheel, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from his brother at that move, to reach down for a newspaper laying on the seat. "Wanna read about the giant carcass the locals discovered on the lakefront then? Care to tell me what that is if not a damn monster, Dean?"

Snatching the paper, green eyes skimmed the front page article then the paper was tossed in the back seat. "Giant squid, that's all it was," he shrugged, wincing as the car hit one of the many holes in the driveway up to the house. "Though we shoulda salted and burned that sucker."

"You were bleeding again and choking on water. I decided to save you and let the town get a thrill though there is no way a giant squid was living in a lake in the Dakotas," Sam shot back, seeing the smirk and felt a small amount of relief.

He'd been worried about his brother since he'd first been shot in the leg earlier in the week and the watery encounter had tripled his concern especially when he'd pulled Dean from the lake and he hadn't been breathing.

It had been a risk, trying to force Dean to go to Bobby's to recover since Sam knew that even though things between them was a little better, not everything was smooth. They had only been back together about a week and still needed to sort some stuff out.

Sam was hoping that this trip to Bobby's would be the right time to handle that as well. He knew that Dean still was reluctant to reveal everything from his trip to the future just like Sam knew that he needed to answer the questions his brother wasn't pushing for about the night in Oregon when those hunters attacked him.

"Hey, did Bobby mention having company?" Dean's voice brought him back to reality, though it was more the tense suspicion in it that made him glance up at the strange orange and red truck that was parked in front of the house and something tingled in the back of his head.

"No and given recent circumstances he would have," Sam was sure of this since neither he nor Dean were positive just how much about them had reached the hunting community. "Think it's a hunter?"

The Impala had stopped close to the house but Sam had yet to shut the ignition off almost as if he was considering a fast retreat if needed.

Dean heard the underlying tone of fear in his brother's voice and it worried him. Sam had been so strong since Dean's return from Hell that he'd almost forgotten what that sound was like coming from his little brother. Not that he could blame him.

He knew a little about the attack. Sam had slowly come clean about the hunters who had come after him, tried to force him to drink the demon blood. Dean doubted he'd told him everything yet because the kid had been too damn jumpy to come clean about it all but the thought of encountering another hunter this soon was enough to make him worried.

"Or it could be a customer looking for parts," Dean reached over to switch off the car and nudged the tense shoulder next to him. "I mean, Bobby does run a junkyard and he does get the occasional crazy person in here looking for actual car parts. Now come on, Samantha, are you going to sit there all day or are you going to pretend not to be helping me out of the car?"

"What?" Sam's head snapped up at that and swore under his breath even as he saw his brother reach for the door handle. "Dean, wait!" he was out of the car and around to the passenger side even before the door opened. "Let me…"

Dean had been about to refuse out of plain principle sake but then as he shifted to get out and his back and leg both sent waves of pain shooting through him that he changed his mind and with a snort held out a clenched fist. "Let's just get inside and find the damn whiskey."

"Pain pills and food first," Sam corrected automatically, gripping his brother's arm carefully as if he was still worried that Dean wouldn't let him touch him and was surprised when he felt the fingers grip his forearm tightly. "Damn it, Dean. How much pain are you in?" he demanded, recognizing the grip. "On a scale of 0 to 10, how bad is it?"

"Twenty," was the clipped answer since as soon as he put weight on the left leg, he felt it even more but then he felt the weight lift off that leg when Sam shifted to that side to offer support. "I suppose you're going to tell Bobby about the giant squid?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he helped his older brother move away from the car and towards Bobby's house where voices could be heard coming near the door. He was in the midst of reminding Dean that the thing that tried to eat him was not a giant squid when the front door slammed open and a clearly disgruntled Bobby Singer rolled out onto the porch.

"Dude, aside from crashing here again, have we done anything recently to piss Bobby off?" Dean asked in a near whisper after getting a good look at the older hunter's face. "Cause I'm tellin' ya, that is his seriously pissed off, ready to take a shotgun to someone look."

"Umm, not that I know of," Sam muttered back, tightening his grip when he felt Dean's leg start to fold under him. "Bobby, everything alright or are we early?" he asked cautiously, the truck still nagging him.

The gruff hunter took a quick look at the two boys and figured out that things were a little worse than Sam had let on. The fact that Dean was allowing the younger man to actually help him, to hold him up told Bobby more than a simple phone call had.

Though right then he had more issues and he had to admit his two favorite idjits had shown up at a really bad time but Bobby saw the worry in Sam's eyes and knew it was from more than his brother's injuries.

"Nah, just someone dropped by to borrow some supplies and he's just leavin'" he replied, patting the oilcloth package on his lap then he narrowed his gaze. "Getting' shot not good enough for you anymore, boy? Now you have to go and almost get ate by a damn lake monster?"

"Damn you, Sam," Dean gritted, trying to shoot his brother a dirty look but considering he was leaning on Sam too much and that fact that his little brother was four inches taller made it hard. "No. It was a cross between a water spirit and a giant squid and…"

Bobby's laugh clearly said that he wasn't buying that as the Winchesters managed to get up the porch steps without too much of a hassle. "Sure and I'll be havin' Rufus go back to salt and burn that carcass you two idjits left behind."

"Told you he wouldn't buy the squid theory," Sam muttered, easing his grip only once Dean was settled in a porch chair. "You should let me get you inside or…"

"Yeah, once the pain's back to just unbearable," Dean hissed, seeing both Bobby and Sam watching him and wanted to avoid the lecture on pain management. "So, this guy who dropped in for supplies, we know him?"

Figuring if it was a hunter that had either known them or their Dad it would stand a better chance of the guy not putting a potential target on Dean's little brother…not that he trusted even hunters that he did know, except for Bobby of course.

"Maybe, not so sure if you remember Saunders or not," Bobby shrugged, clearly not happy with the visit and it was plain that he couldn't wait for the guy and his truck to get out of his place. "You were probably twenty and Sam sixteen the last time that…"

Sam's head, which had been looking down at Dean, suddenly jerked up to gaze at Bobby. Hazel eyes more than concerned. "Jonas Saunders?" he demanded, voice strained in a way that made his brother look up at him. "He's here? Now? In the house and…"

"Well, yeah but he's…" Bobby had started to reply, not liking the younger man's change of voice or the way he'd seemed to have paled at the name. "Sam, what…"

"Old man, your liquor stash is pathetic but I guess you don't need it all that much know. Don't want to get drunk while driving that chair," a rough voice barked out a laugh that made the older hunter's teeth clench.

Dean had tensed at the words and he automatically mistook Sam's body going rigid as the same thing as the door opened and the tall, barrel-chested man with red hair past his shoulders stepped onto the porch and he immediately remembered him and immediately remembered not liking him.

"Singer, where'd you…oh, well, looks like you got more company to help…" the man stopped to give the boys a better look before his smile widened. "Well, as I live and breathe, if it ain't John Winchester's boys," he grinned. "I'm surprised you boys are both still in this game, though I guess I should say I'm surprised to see Sammy's still in it since you didn't seem too eager to follow in your old man's footsteps."

Knowing that his brother hated to be called 'Sammy' under normal circumstances, Dean assumed having this gruff near stranger use the nickname that was purely between them now was what caused Sam to have nearly backed up against the porch wall, his face tight but his eyes were focusing down.

"It's Sam," Dean corrected, deciding to try to keep his own anger out of his voice as he held at a hand. "Been awhile, Jonas."

Jonas Saunders grinned as he grasped the extended hand firmly, debating on seeing just what the boy hand in the way of strength when a look from Bobby made him reconsider…that and the fact that both of the Winchesters had a lot on him in the way of height and probably strength.

"I ain't seen you since you were probably twenty, Dean," he nodded, considering as he slid his gaze to the younger of the pair and gave him an appraising look. "Sammy…sorry, Sam would've been what…sixteen? You two sure grew up since then."

"Yeah, Sammy ate his Wheaties and sprouted like a damn weed," Dean grinned at his brother but frowned when he noticed the trembling of his hands and how his gaze was still locked on the floor.

As he remembered that time, he recalled that Sam had been quiet and disapproving of the older hunter back then too but their Dad had ignored it and called Sam overly sensitive. That had confused Dean but neither his Dad nor Sam would talk about it much so he'd let it drop.

Now though, he was hurting too bad to humor anyone so he started to push out of the chair. "I'd love to stay to talk about old times but I think it's time I let Sam do the mother hen thing and help me inside," he remarked, hoping to snap his brother back to reality but instead it was Saunders who reached out a large callused hand to grip his arm in assistance.

"Looks like the kid's out there somewhere," he chuckled. "Singer can get him sorted out. I'll help you inside, upstairs to a bedroom and look at that leg wound if…"

An unexpected blur suddenly shoved his hands away from Dean and would have knocked him off the porch if he hadn't grabbed onto the rail in time. "What the hell…"

"Don't. Touch. My. Brother." Sam's words were gritted out as he put himself between Saunders and Dean, hazel eyes dark with something that should have worried the older man if he'd been smart. "You don't ever touch him or…

It was the tone of voice without even seeing his brother's eyes that had Dean grabbing for Sam. "Whoa there, Sammy, calm down," he urged, frowning when he felt how rigid Sam's muscles were. A sure sign that his little brother had passed beyond anger and into pure rage but he couldn't understand why. "Sam!" he snapped, shooting Bobby a concerned look.

"Just trying to be friendly, kid," Saunders remarked easily, eyes narrowing as they looked between the brothers. "Your Daddy warned you about jumpin' to conclusions or bitin' the hands that feeds you, Sammy."

Sam, who had looked ready to go for the red haired man's throat suddenly seemed to shirk back a little at those words and the look in the other set of eyes when he finally heard Dean's voice and he twisted away to grab his brother's arm. "Bobby, I'm gonna get Dean settled inside and we'll need your first-aid kit and…" he was babbling, he knew it but couldn't stop. He just wanted to be inside and get his brother away from this man who watched them with a smirk.

Bobby waved the boys inside before tossing the package to Saunders. "Here, everything you needed so take it and get outta here," he growled, still hearing Sam talking too fast as he thought he was helping Dean. "You don' come back while they're here or for that matter, don't come back at all."

"You still takin' his side, Singer?" Saunders sneered but stepped off the porch with a look back as he neared his truck. "Tell Sammy I still have the cabin if he wants to get together to 'talk' about old times."

Bobby waited until the sound of the truck had died off to let out a tired breath, leaning his head back with a muttered oath. He'd been cursing ever since Saunders had shown up right after Sam's last call and he'd tried to get the man out before the boys arrived but hadn't had much luck on that.

He'd known that Sam had some issues with Saunders from the year he'd been sixteen but no one, not even Dean, knew exactly what. Bobby had always had his guesses and he'd hoped to God that he'd be wrong but one look at Sam's face today warned him that he wasn't. "Damn fool Winchesters are gonna be the death of me yet," he grumbled, rolling into the house to find them and wasn't surprised to see that Sam was hovering over his brother in the library where the couch was.

What did surprise the older hunter was that it was Dean who looked to be the one comforting right then as Sam moved around the room quickly, as if looking for something but not sure what and talking under his breath.

"Sammy, you want to sit down, breath normally and actually blink before you fall down and Bobby ends up with both of us as patients?" Dean called in a louder voice, finally reaching out to grab his brother's wrist when he went to go past him again. "Sam!"

The sharp in-command tone of voice that Dean had learned from their father finally snapped Sam's attention to him as he was tugged down to the edge of the couch, next to his brother.

Some deep buried instinct had Sam tugging his wrist free, which made both Dean and Bobby frown. Since they'd gotten back together again, Sam had been wanting those tiny little touches. Anything to prove that Dean had forgiven him, that he trusted him but right then he didn't want to feel anyone's hand touching him.

"Sorry, I just can't find the peroxide to clean the wounds with," he mumbled, dropping his eyes again rather than look at his brother's sharp green eyes.

"It's in your hand, Sam," Dean told him quietly, again laying a hand on his brother's but again it was shoved away. "Sammy, something bothering you? Aside from the whole killer giant squid thing, I mean?"

"No!" Sam's answer was sharp, too sharp and had his brother's eyes narrowing. He knew Dean was hurting and he just wanted to patch his brother up, give him the pain meds that would help him sleep and then slink off to someplace dark so that he could bury the sudden memories and emotions that seeing Jonas Saunders again had brought back.

Dean lifted a brow at the reply as Bobby rolled into the room. "Sam, c'mon. What's botherin' you?" he asked, wincing when his leg reminded him of the wound and how he really didn't feel like handling another one of Sam's emotional outbursts right then.

Since the whole deal with Lucifer being let out, the demon blood addiction, and being apart and then back together, it had been a long time since he'd had to handle on of Sam's more emotional scenes. He'd been shoving down the emotions since before Dean's return.

Actually seeing his little brother this disturbed reminded him of when they'd been kids and Sammy had seen too much.

Of course, then Dean had a clue to what it was bugging Sam. This time he didn't have a clue and that was bad for them.

"Sammy, you totally flipped on a friend of Dad's and he was only going to help me into the house," he watched his brother jostle the bottle and tried to reach for the wound on his back. "I mean it wasn't like Jonas was trying to get me alone to put the moves on me or anything cause dude, I so don't swing that way and…Sam!"

The light humor in Dean's voice fled when Sam's fingers slipped and the bottle fell to the floor and he stood up as if in a panic, face pale and eyes too huge as he practically jumped away from the couch and Dean.

"I'm uh…I'm going to go grab the whiskey and something for you to eat," Sam spoke as he backed away, wincing when he bumped into a pile of books on the desk and sent them scattering. "Sorry, Bobby,…I'll pick those up after…I'll be back."

Dean frowned as he and Bobby watched the younger man practically ran from the library and then he looked toward the older hunter. "What the hell got into him?"

"Dean, lay back and let me look at that leg," Bobby urged, feeling like pounding his head in and calling John Winchester a few names while he was at it. "You and Sam have been on the road pretty steady and the kid's still feelin' the effects of those stupid chuckleheads who tried to use him. He's just tired. Leave him alone for awhile and he'll calm down…" a sound of glass breaking and something crashing from outside had him closing his eyes. "…or maybe not."

"What the hell?" Dean growled, shoving off the couch while weaving a little to regain his bearings before heading for the kitchen. "Sam, where's…" he stopped when he found the kitchen empty and the back door hanging open as if shoved in a rush to get outside. "Damn it, Sam."

Looking around, he found the open bottle of Jack Daniels that was nearly empty on the counter, the contents of a nearly empty stomach in the sink and Sam's jacket on the floor but as the sounds continued from deep in the yard, he could guess where his missing brother was. "Great, just freakin' great."

"Dean, you can't go hobblin' around the yard after Sam with your leg like that!" Bobby snapped even as the older Winchester was slamming the door after him. "Damn, stupid stubborn idjits are gonna be the death of me yet."

Sam had managed to escape to the kitchen and shut the sliding doors before the sick feeling in his stomach finally overtook him and he barely managed to reach the sink before his meager breakfast and slim lunch came back up.

Hearing Bobby talking to Dean and knowing he had to put distance between himself and his brother until he was able to settle down and work up a reluctant lie. He'd worked too damn hard over the years to keep this from Dean to let one unfortunate encounter bring it back because he knew once his brother got the whiff that something was wrong with him he'd never let it go until he found out what.

Finding the sealed bottle under the sink where Bobby usually hid it if he knew Dean was coming, Sam glanced at it for a long moment before slitting the seal and drinking. Images flashing and the thought of Saunders being close to his brother made his stomach curl and he fought for air.

Not thinking clearly, Sam wasn't fully aware of when he ran from the kitchen and into the deepest part of the salvage yard. He just remembered wanting to be safe and out there in what been like a maze he'd once been that.

He also wasn't aware of picking up the rusty piece of metal or swinging it at the first shadow image his tired, overworked mind showed him. "No," his whispered plea was soft as first but as the memories suddenly came back he began screaming.

Dean cursed his way through the winding maze that was Bobby's junkyard following the increasing sounds of glass breaking, muffled thuds and another sound that he hadn't heard in quite some time.

"Sam?" he hastened his stride as the sounds coming from his brother got more strained but as he rounded a corner Dean's anxiety went from mild to full blown panic when he found Sam.

Recalling the times as kids when the stress of life got too bad, either of them would come out to the far edges of the yard to take their frustrations out on the old junkers, Dean had figured that would be where Sam went so he wasn't surprised by the breaking glass or when he heard metal on metal. He was surprised when the sounds changed the more like metal hitting flesh.

Rounding the corner Dean quickly forgot about his recent injuries, the pain, all the stress of having Lucifer walking free, starting the Apocalypse, being zapped into the future by Zachariah, finding out that hunters attacked Sam and that the Devil wants to wear his little brother.

He forgets all of that once he finds his 6'4", bigger, stronger little brother ramming his already bloody hands against cars that showed signs of being beaten as the metal was smeared with blood while shards of glass littered the ground all around.

Lifting the bloody shirt that Sam must have tore off, Dean's eyes scanned his brother and saw the massive bruises, the cuts on his face, arms, chest and hands from flying glass and twisted metal. He also caught the broken anguish in his face, but what else he saw was something that he hadn't since his little brother was a small child. Hidden panic and something else that he couldn't identify yet.

"Sam?" he called again, eyes narrowing when his voice went unheard but Sam's voice got more hoarse, clearly he'd been screaming for awhile. "Sammy, hey, you want to stop that before you cost Bobby a fortune in junk?"

Sam's fist flew forward again, bashing already bloody knuckles into the ancient Ford pickup that had caught his attention. "No, no, no, not again, not again," he kept chanting hoarsely, not aware of his older brother until a firm hand gripped his shoulder. "NO! Getawayfromme! Won't let you…"

"Sammy!" Dean snapped, using his best and firmest tone even as he tried to control his now raging brother who had turned from dispelling his anger on junks to his brother. "Sam, damn it! Stop it, it's me, Dean!" he shouted, weaving under a fist that could've taken his head off if it had connected.

The weeks of constantly being on edge, the concern, the guilt, the fears that he'd buried on top of being afraid of losing his brother. All of the rest of the crap that he's been coping with has just compounded on Sam so that now that the emotions have come he's only seeing his fear. He only hears the voice that he's avoided since he was sixteen and so when the hand touched him, hunters instincts kicked in.

"Goddamn it!" Dean growled when he was shoved back by a fist to his jaw. His bad leg buckled under him, making him start to fall but as he went down he latched onto Sam's arm in order to bring him down to the glass covered dirt.

Making certain to take the brunt of the fall, Dean landed on his back in order to keep the shards from biting into Sam's bare skin anymore than they had when he struggled to get control.

"Sammy, stop it!" he shouted over his brother's hoarse cries, finally managed to get his arms wrapped around Sam from behind but that only managed to freak out his already freaked out little brother. "Damn stubborn, pain in the ass, little brothers," he gritted as pain shot through his back where a piece of glass came through his clothes and into his wound. "Sam, I swear when you snap back into your brain I am so going to kick your ass for this."

"Get your f***in' hands offa me, you sick…" Sam bucked against the arms keeping him pinned, straining hard to break the hold until his breathing became too fast and he felt himself begin to hyperventilate. "No, God, no…"

Keeping his arms tight around Sam, Dean struggled to hold his brother still while listening to his cries and feeling his gut clench. "Sam, Sammy, c'mon, dude," he continued to chant his brother's name in hopes of getting through to him but when he felt his body begin to jerk and wheeze, Dean swore under his breath.

"Sonuvabitch," he swore, realizing Sam's panic or whatever he was seeing had caused a full blown panic attack and his brother was now well into hyperventilating even as he was going limp against Dean's chest. "Sammy? Sammy, don't do this to me…"

Moving quickly, Dean eased his grip just long enough to sit his little brother upright and lean him against a nearby car. "C'mon, little brother, just breathe with me, in and out," he urged, cupping Sam's face with both hands in order to lift it up. "Sammy, you hearin' me?" he called, burying the concern he felt in order to concentrate on Sam.

Gasping, his skin clammy from sweat and exertion, Sam's eyes flickered behind closed lashes as he stirred under his brother's hands. "Wha…?" he mumbled, memories coming back and starting to tense under the hands he could feel gripping his face until his heard a voice in his ear. A voice that he'd heard since he was a baby. "De,…wha…"

The childhood nickname warned him right away since he hadn't heard it or the tone in about twenty years. "Yeah, Sammy. I'm right here," he assured him, sliding his hands down to grip Sam's neck and not liking the jumping pulse he found. "You good now or do you want to beat the crap outta Bobby's stuff some more?"

"Huh?" Sam slowly lifted his head but the hazel color was muted as if in shock and then as if noticing his bleeding hands for the first time he finally tried to focus on Dean who was kneeling in front of him. "Your leg…"

"Screw my leg, Sam!" Dean rolled his eyes, being careful when he moved his hands from his brother's neck in order to lift one cut and bleeding hand. "What the hell did you think you were doing, huh? Are you drunk?"

Staring at Dean in confusion, it slowly started coming back and he began to tense; looking around quickly as if expecting a threat but as he tried to push up, he was gently yet firmly pushed back. "No, it's nothin'," he mumbled, not even feeling the pain from his other wounds yet. "Just needed to…"

"Don't lie to me, Sam," this time, Dean kept his voice stern but not threatening since he knew how his little brother would react to that. "You were all Mother Hen with me when we got to Bobby's and then you saw Jonas Saunders and went rabid on him before all this jittery crap started. You want to tell me what's buggin' you, Sammy or should I just go see if Bobby…"

"No!" Sam's fingers tried to grip Dean's arm but slid off as he slipped further into shock. "No," he repeated more quietly, looking away from the intense green eyes that were watching him. "It wasn't anything, Dean. I just needed to blow off steam and…"

Dean sighed, feeling his leg throb and knowing he needed to get them both back closer to the house. "Let's get you back inside and cleaned up before I start drilling answers outta you," he declared, standing and trying to get Sam to his feet. He was halfway up and starting to sway, Dean placed an instinctive hand on the small of his back and then saw stars when a fist collided with the side of this head.

"Sam! What the hell?" he demanded, having to let go of his brother to keep his balance and starting to glare until he saw his face. "Sam?"

"Don't. Touch. Me." Sam gritted, hands clenching which made the cuts ooze blood more easily but it was the outright fear in both his face and eyes that had Dean's alarm hitching up another notch so decided to ignore the pain in his head and the desire to hit back.

Carefully lifting his hands to show they were empty, he went to step closer again and swore at himself for breaking contact when Sam jerked away but hit the car that he was up against.

"Sammy, it's me. You know, your awesome big brother who is going to so deserve a medal for not breaking your face for this crap," he hoped if nothing else, his voice at least brought Sam back to planet Earth. "You're cut up and bleeding and I'm pretty sure I've pulled a few stitches and probably got a mild concussion forming from that last cheap shot you just took, so can we just go back inside so Bobby can pretend not to lecture while he helps me put you back together again?"

Eyes slitting back and forth nervously, Sam stared at his older brother as if not really seeing him and looking for someone else. "Where's Dad?"

"Come again?" now any good humor or patience that Dean had left turned and left and his blood went to ice. "Sam? You…you know where Dad is, right?"

"Yeah, out with that sick, sadistic sonuvabitch," Sam's words were pitched to the point that they reminded Dean of the year his brother was sixteen but what really surprised him was the tone of the curse. The infliction in the word was too similar to how Dean himself says it which his brother had never done before, except for that summer.

"Out with who, Sam?" Dean had a hunch he knew the answer but wanted to hear it.

Sam dragged a hand over his face, leaving it streaked with blood as he continued to look around. "…S…Saunders," he finally replied in a near whisper, seeming to have trouble getting the name out. "Don't like him. Dad won't…he won't listen and Dean's…"

'Okay, this so sucks,' Dean thought to himself, wishing not for the first time that Bobby was able to get to them. 'Sammy has no freakin' clue what's going on.'

Taking a deep breath, he slowly stepped closer but made no move to touch his now shaking little brother. "Where am…" he paused to figure out a why to ask this. "Where is Dean, Sam?" he questioned, trying to remember that summer and when he hadn't been with Sam.

"Dad made him go hunt with Caleb," came the tight whisper, going on as he clenched his fingers tighter. "Dean was supposed to spend the summer with me between Bobby's and Pastor Jim's but Dad decided Dean needed to hunt with Caleb and then wouldn't let me go with him so I got stuck at Bobby's and…"

"Despite the fact that both Caleb and I argued with Dad over letting me take you," Dean finally remembered and felt his gun hand get twitchy.

He recalled vividly the six weeks he and Caleb spent hunting together, going to bars and probably other places that John Winchester wouldn't have approved of. He also recalled missing his annoying little brother and finally the call from Pastor Jim to Caleb that had Dean cutting the trip short and hightailing it back to Bobby's.

"Sam? Look at me, Sammy," Dean moved cautiously when he shifted a hand under his brother's chin to lift it in order to look into his eyes and not liking what he saw. "I need you to tell me what happened those weeks I was gone. Something happened to make you hate Jonas, to cause you to have a fight with Dad and run from Bobby's and…"

"I didn't run from Bobby's," Sam cut in, eyes beginning to fill. "Dad wanted me to spend time with Jonas, learning from another hunter other than Bobby and I…refused. Dad and I had words and I came out here to think like I always did and…" he stopped as if remembering.

"And what?" Dean was getting exasperated. "Bobby told Pastor Jim that you'd disappeared for a weekend but Dad said you were off training those…Sam!" he snapped, this time grabbing the hand before it could connect. "Enough with trying to cave my damn head in. I have enough Angels doing that as it is without you helping. Tell me what the hell happened and what's freaking you out this time?"

Suddenly tired and not feeling like fighting anymore, Sam's chin dropped to his chest and he stared at the blood drops on the ground. "He told Dad I'd decided to stay with him to train but I didn't," he mumbled, going back to a habit that Dean had hated.

When Sam was young and worried and scared, he mumbled and that was what he was doing now as he avoided his brother's searching gaze.

"I was out here, just wandering around when something sharp hit my neck. I felt the rag on my face and the next thing I remember is waking…up at…in a…and…he…uh, he was…"

As he listened to his little brother try to get the words out, Dean began to fill in the gaps just by the way Sam had reacted today and how he was behaving now. He'd seen Sam shake and jerk this badly just a couple times before and the last time was after those crazy Benders had grabbed him.

Swallowing the lump that was forming, Dean laid a hand on the shaking arm closest to him. "Sammy, who told Dad that you were training with him? Who grabbed you?" it was asked in a tone that honestly surprised Dean since he was getting angry.

His kid brother had been attacked, drugged by the way he was talking, and taken from Bobby's and his Dad honestly believed what some SOB told him? God, but there were times when Dean could still kick his Dad's ass…if he were alive that is.

"Sammy? Tell me who."

Slowly watery puppy eyes were locking on his vivid green ones as tears slid down unnoticed by Sam as he shook. "S…S…Saunders," he finally got out, arms locking around himself as if trying to ward off a chill…or protecting himself. "He said Dad wouldn't believe me and that Dean would be…"

"I'd be what?" Dean demanded tightly, keeping his eyes locked on Sam's. "Sam, damn it. What the hell did the bastard say?"

"He said Dean would be ashamed even if he did believe me," was the reply and then the wall broke further in a storm of words. "He was right. Dad…didn't believe me. He said I was lying and wouldn't let Bobby do anything and that I was makin' it up cause I wanted you and…"

Finally Dean's fingers curled around the arm he was holding and gently pulled his much taller baby brother into his arms, feeling him tense when Dean's arms tightened around him and not immediately moving his own.

"Sammy, one question and only one before I get you back to the house," Dean fought for control of his voice as he felt the body he was holding shake violently now while he moved one hand up to his brother's neck in a move that he hoped Sam would recognize. "Did Jonas…did Saunders…did he…" taking a deep breath, he tried to force the words out past clenched teeth. "Did he _hurt_ you?"

It was several agonizing moments before the younger hunter responded and if Dean had any doubts that Sam understood what he meant with the questions he lost them as soon as he felt his little brother's arms move to latch on tightly.

"…" short nod was all Sam got out before he suddenly turned to bury his face against Dean's neck and let the rest of the tears come, not aware of how tight he was holding on to his brother by this point. As memories came back and all Sam had to cling to was the strong arms of his silently seething older brother.

"It's alright, Sammy," Dean murmured, fighting to bury the rage as he pictured what his brother wasn't saying just by his actions. Pulling the unresisting younger man fully into his arms, he held on tight while Sam responded in kind, with his sobs buried against Dean's T-shirt. "Everything's gonna be good. I'll make this better," he promised softly, keeping one arm locked around Sam while using his free hand to card through sweat soaked shaggy hair in a comforting move before reaching for his cellphone.

Sam was beyond hearing anything but his memories and Dean's voice by this point so he was unaware of the tight tone of fury in his brother's voice when he next spoke.

Waiting for the call to be picked up, Dean closed his eyes to avoid seeing the images he was imagining when he heard the voice on the other end. "Cas, far edge of Bobby's junkyard. Just teleport in and find…" he frowned when he heard the dial tone. "He damn well better not've hung up on me or…"

"Your tone suggested I make haste so I didn't want to waste time by ending the call properly," Castiel's voice spoke from behind him where he'd appeared.

Taking in the scene in front of him; Dean more or less holding and supporting Sam by this point, and Sam, without a shirt, with cuts and blood all over, the Angel's normally calm voice did change slightly as he neared the brothers. "Dean, what happened here? Why is Sam…what…"

"Just get us back to Bobby's house, Cas," Dean cut him off, not looking over since he didn't want the Angel seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. "Just help me get him…"

The next instant had Dean blinking to see they'd been deposited in Bobby's library where the gruff older hunter nearly dropped the book he'd been studying.

"What I tell you about…" he started to snap at the Angel when he caught sight of the boys and quickly wheeled out from behind the desk. "What in the hell happened to you two?" he demanded, seeing that Sam was the one bleeding but noticing the rage in the older one's eyes. "Dean, tell me you didn't…"

A sharp and dangerous glare slid his way even as Dean grabbed a blanket from the chair before gently easing his baby brother down on the sofa, careful of the cuts and blood, and keeping a hand on his face.

"No, I didn't," he gritted, sighing. "Sammy did this all to himself…well, him and a good half a dozen cars and trucks that may not be in much shape for junk now."

Grumbling about this, Bobby wheeled closer to see the boy was shaking and that while his lips were moving, no real sound or words were coming out. "What happened to make him do this?"

"Dean, Sam needs those cuts treated and in the emotional state he's in, sleep will leave him vulnerable to…" Castiel was saying at the same time.

Trying to ignore both man and Angel all the while coping with a scared, in shock, and way to close to mentally regressing little brother, Dean finally snapped.

"Shut up!" he shot back, keeping a firm hand on Sam in order to assure him of some safety while glaring at both surrogate father and Angel. "Sam did this because between having all the worry and guilt of starting the freakin' Apocalypse, to having hunters trying to kill him, and worrying about me, he had a piece of his past that he'd been buryin' since he was sixteen come back in living Technicolor!" he lowered his voice when Sam twisted. "I need to clean these before they get anymore infected than they are now."

Bobby looked between the boys and recognized the simmering hate on Dean as something he'd seen before and nodded, rolling away to get clean towels and the first aid kit.

"And you…" Dean had pinned Castiel with a glare. "You had better find a way to keep Lucifer out of my brother's head, especially right now because he's in no way able to defend himself from the kind of crap he'll lay on him."

Considering, the trench coat wearing Angel slowly watched as Dean turned back to hover and soothe his brother. From the last time he had seen or talked with Dean after Zachariah had attacked him, the way he related to his brother had changed drastically. "I…I can probably make some sort of…tonic that if drank would keep him at bay…at least until Sam has recovered from whatever has happened to him."

"Fine, do it," Dean didn't look back as he eased a hand on the nearest shoulder. "Sammy, you're safe," he promised, leaning closer to hear the whispered words and gritting his teeth. "No. No one is going to hurt you. Big brother's home and he'll take care of it all."

Bobby and Castiel stood by while Dean cleaned, irrigated, pulled glass shards out, stitched and bandaged, all the while talking in a low soothing voice that kept Sam calm if not fully still.

Breaking the thread on the final stitch on his arm, Dean eased back to look at his brother.

Sam was pale, sweating and shaking as he layed under a heavy blanket, his eyes were moving behind his eyelids which was a sure sign that his mind was still active and Dean only hoped it was memories causing his restlessness and not something else.

"Cas, get that tonic ready or something," Dean spoke over his shoulder while carding his surprisingly steady fingers through his brother's hair in a soothing way but was surprised when Sam's eyes opened. "Sammy?"

Looking up at Dean silently, Sam's fingers shook as they reached to touch. "De'n?" he whispered, having a hard time focusing but fighting something in order to keep his eyes open. "Home? Don' let him…please… don'…"

"He won't hurt you again, little brother," Dean assured him, squeezing his shoulder when Cas held out a small cup. "Sammy, I need you to drink this for me and then you can sleep," he urged gently, holding out the cup but jerked it back before it was knocked away in Sam's fear.

"No, don' wan' that," he groaned, eyes cloudy and huge as he tried to lock on his brother. "He made me drink and…"

"Shit, shit, shit!" Dean cursed, setting the cup aside to grab Sam before he could fall off the sofa in his haste. "Sammy, calm down, you're safe at Bobby's…"

"I was 'safe' at Bobby's then too!" Sam shouted, rolling onto this side and actually curling up smaller on the sofa in order to shield himself. "No place is safe. Dean left me, Dad didn't believe me and…"

Dean saw Bobby flinch but chose to concentrate on his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here now, Sammy and I promised you that I'd make it better and I will. Just…go to sleep," he replied quietly, closing his eyes when he felt his little brother shiver through the blanket. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Ignoring Bobby's frown and the Angel's confused look, Dean took his leather jacket off to lay it over Sam and felt a familiar feeling when he watched the boy he'd raised snuggle more into the jacket, as if feeling more secure by the jacket's weight and smells.

Smoothing a hand over Sam's head again, Dean stood slowly to look down once last time before turning away and allowing the rage he'd been hiding for the past couple hours to surface.

Bobby Singer had known Dean Winchester since the boy had been a little over four years old. In that time he'd seen him go through a myriad of emotions, though anger, distrust and sarcasm were his favorite ones. He had, however, seen this type of rage on Dean only a few times and most of those involved the hidden feelings that he'd never allow John to see. The last time he'd seen the rage this bad was right after Cold Oak and Sam had been stabbed and even then grief had been mingled in. This time, all he saw was pure cold rage.

"Dean, what're you gonna do?" he demanded once he was reasonably certain that it was safe to speak. "What's Sam talkin'…"

"You should have told me," Dean cut in, voice hard as he now allowed the images his brother's words invoked to come but when he looked at Bobby, the rage was mixed with pain that he hadn't been told. "Is that why you wanted that asshole outta here before we got here? Because you knew how Sam would react?" he demanded, waiting until he was out of the library to slam a hand into the wall. "You shoulda told me the day Caleb and I got back here."

"Dean, if I woulda had proof and John wasn't bein' such a pain in the ass…" Bobby frowned when the young man whirled toward him, pure big brother in control right then.

"Sam was all the goddamn proof you needed!" he snarled, thrusting a hand back to his sleeping brother. "When I got back here I found him huddled in a junk car out back and it took me a damn hour to get him to let me touch him. I should've figured it out then if Dad wouldn't have started that huge fight about me coming back early but if you had told me then I would've known why Sammy woke up screaming for the next three weeks."

Dean whirled back to grab his duffel, totally oblivious to how he was limping as he headed for the door. "Dad believed a lying sack of shit over his sixteen year old son and then didn't bother to tell me a thing about it and Sam was too brainwashed that I'd be ashamed to tell me," he went on, pausing. "I spent all my life keepin' him safe and he loses trust and God knows what else to someone he should've been able to trust. Well, I promised him I'd make it right and I'm going to. Keep an eye on him and I'll be back."

"Where the hell you goin', boy?" Bobby demanded, praying he was wrong but knew he wasn't when the elder Winchester paused by the door to the Impala. "Dean, don't go doin' something you'll regret. You ain't up to fightin' Jonas right now and you're head ain't in the game!"

"My head is an 'in the game' as it possibly could be right now, Bobby," Dean returned, tossing the duffel in the car. "I'll be fine. You and Cas just stay with Sam and make sure he's alright. I'll be back after I'm done."

Castiel had stepped onto the porch, hearing Bobby hurl useless curses at the young hunter. "Dean, where are you going?"

"How do you plan on finding Saunders, hotshot?" Bobby demanded, hating this. "Dean, Sam needs you here and not out…"

"Sammy needs to know that someone will still look out for him. He needs to know that no matter what, now or over something that happened when he was still a kid, that _I'll_ have his back and damn anyone who says otherwise ever again," Dean touched the amulet he wore and remembered when his little brother had given it to him. "Zach's little trip to the future might've showed me that Sammy and I are worse off apart but aside from that, it's also reminded me that I still have a little brother who needs me. One that I'll kill for and I guess it's time to remind a few evil bastards of that rule," he saw Bobby's frown and remembered the other question. "As for how I'll find him, Dad has an address in the journal so I'll start there."

"Dean, where are you going?" Castiel called, confused by all of this but not liking the emotions he was reading off the hunter.

Starting the Impala, Dean hesitated before sticking his head out the window to shrug. "I'm going to see a walking dead man about his life after death plans because by the time I'm done, Jonas Saunders will regret the day he screwed with what belongs to me."

Before Bobby could think of a reason to stop him, Dean was peeling out of the yard in a plume of dust and gravel and he was left with a physically hurt, emotionally raw young hunter and a confused Angel on his hands.

"Can I ask a question?"

"No, but you will anyway so go ahead," Bobby growled, wheeling back inside and groaning when he heard the first moan from the library and recognize Sam calling for his brother. "Talk fast because if Sam wakes up before I get Dean back here then we're both going to be too busy to talk."

Castiel looked in to see that while Sam was tense he didn't appear to be ready to wake up so he was slow to look down at Bobby, considering how to ask so it was understood. "How can a dead man walk or if he's dead, how can Dean talk to him?"

"Stupid, flamin' idjit leaves me with a featherbrained moron," Bobby groaned, ignoring the question in favor of something he could handle. "Watch Sam while I make a few calls and then be ready to lend a hand because we need to find Dean and fast because that boy's going into this angry and you outta know by now, hurt Sam + rage + Dean=…"

"A big can of trouble?" Castiel supplied helpfully as Bobby went to call in favors and he stayed close to Sam.

**Elsewhere, 12 later: **

Laying his shirt over a chair, Jonas Saunders was about to settle in for the night with some light reading and a favorite video when the sudden pounding on the cabin's front door took him by surprise.

"Damn it," he grumbled, tossing the folder on the table. "Yeah, what d'ya want?" he demanded, starting to open the door enough to see who it was when the door suddenly slammed into his chest with enough force to knock him down. "What the…"

Falling and starting to reach for the shotgun by the door, he was stopped short by the sound of a handgun being cocked, looking up he found the blue-black pistol muzzle aimed at his heart.

"Knock, knock, you sonuvabitch," Dean steadied the weapon while glaring. "We need to talk and then you need to die."

_A/N: So this turned out longer than I planned for chapter two. I'll get Chapter Three up soon. Thanks again for reading and reviews._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Wincing and spitting blood from where the door connected with his face, Jonah Saunders stared up into the muzzle that looked less threatening than the man holding it. "Dean! What's this about?" he asked, working a hand toward the gun in his boot when a foot stepped down on the limb.

"This is about what I plan on doing to you before I kill you, you sick perverted asshole," Dean shot back, seeing the quite flash of fear on the other face. "Maybe Dad should've filled you in on the Dean Winchester #1 rule: No one, man, demon, or spirit, touches my baby brother and lives to tell about it and dude, you are so not going to live."

Seeing the finger go toward the trigger, Saunders blanched. "I…I don't know what…" he tried to stutter, buying time to get a better handle on both the situation and the young man.

"Do not even attempt to say that you don't know what I'm talking about because if you honestly thought I wouldn't find out then you are even more stupid than I gave you credit for," Dean snapped, still seeing the sick fear in his little brother, both now and back then. "You got lucky back then. I wasn't around because if I had been here you sure as hell wouldn't have gotten near Sam to talk to him much less do…" he couldn't yet bring himself to say it. Just thinking it made his skin crawl.

"Dean, listen to me now," the older hunter urged, slowly lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture. "You need to calm down and let me explain. I know what that brother of yours probably told you but you gotta believe me when I say it's all lies. Your Daddy was a smart man and he knew little Sammy made up all that crap he was spewing that summer…urgh!"

A swift kick to the midsection had Saunders shutting up as Dean knelt down to grab him by the shirtfront and hauled him up to within a inch of his face.

"First, his name is Sam. If you ever call him Sammy again I will kick your face in before I kill you," he growled, voice harsh. "Second, my Father was an obsessed bastard who barely knew his sons existed most of the damn time so it wasn't hard to convince him of anything, especially where Sam was concerned and third," a another hard rap with the pistol to the man's forehead emphasized the points. "No one calls my brother a liar. Not my Dad, not a spirit, and certainly not a two-bit hunter who gets his kicks abusing boys."

Dean was pleased he was keeping his temper as in control as he was and planned on making a few points very clear before he cleaned up another mess that his Dad should've when something that had been scattered to the floor when Saunders fell into the table caught his attention.

Using the butt of his Colt to knock the red haired hunter senseless, Dean stood to go pick up one of several glossy 8x10 photos that were laying on the wood floor. "Sonuvabitch," he breathed, lungs closing up as air refused to move any longer just as his eyes began to glaze over in a thin red haze and his mind refused to function as he stared at the image in his hand and the ones still littering the floor.

To his recollection, no one, not himself, or his Dad or even Bobby, had any images left of when Sam was sixteen. Bobby had said that before Dean and Caleb got back, Sam had rummaged through every photo he could find and before he could be stopped burned them.

" 'I just don't wanna remember.'" Sam had bitterly responded when Dean had pushed for an answer.

Now as he stared at the photo that was being crumpled in his fist and the ones on the floor, he began to see why his brother didn't want any photos and why he seemed to get so agitated the rest of that year and for months afterward whenever a camera was brought out.

Dean stared at the face of his innocent sixteen year old brother but it was in the way the photo was taken, or rather the shape Sam appeared to be in that made him swallow a few times in order to keep his stomach inside his body.

"You should've listened to me, Dean."

Rage that had simmered to a cold hate was now burning back brightly, clenching the photo in his fist Dean heard the voice and knew he'd let his emotions blind him to the threat of a foe. Rule #1 in John Winchester's lessons but Dean honestly couldn't give a damn about that anymore. All he cared about what his little brother and if he'd had any doubts to what his Sammy had endured at this perverts' hands then the evidence all around got rid of them.

"If my Dad had seen this crap you would not still be breathing," Dean was sure of that…had to keep telling himself that even as he heard the short burst of cold laughter from behind him.

"John was the one who wanted your precious little brother to come with me, to learn how to be a strong hunter, to get rid of all his weaknesses and fears," Saunders bragged, wiping his still bleeding nose while reaching for something close by but keep his eyes locked on the back of the eldest Winchester. "Johnny knew what a wimp and a pansy Sammy was turning into so he told me to make a man outta him."

" 'Take your brother outside and try to make a man out of him, Dean.'" John Winchester's stern voice echoed in Dean's head as he listened to the sneering words coming from behind.

So many variations of that phrase had come from John's mouth that he honestly could believe he'd say it to Saunders but Dean had to keep believing that his Father did not know what else the man planned on doing.

Green eyes dropped down to one particular hideous photo that for as long as he lives Dean knows he will never get that image out of his head and he starts to shift on the balls of his feet for a quick move. "He didn't tell you to molest his son, you bastard!" he snapped, whirling to bring the Colt up when the baseball bat slammed down onto his wrist.

The sudden pain shooting up his arm caused the pistol to fall and a boot kicked it out of reach even as a fist was slamming into Dean's face causing his head to snap back. "Your Dad told me to do whatever the hell I wanted to to the little freak," Saunders sneered, going for another fist to the face when Dean moved at the last moment.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Dean," he warned, keeping his balance after the blow missed to swing the bat again intending to strike the young hunter in the back. "Your Dad always favored you. When John and I would talk, it was your praises he sang. You were the ideal son, not little Sammy. Hell, I figured out after the first day of meeting him that there was only one thing that boy would ever be good for and…"

The sentence ended abruptly when Dean spun and lunged, taking Saunders down by tackling him around the midsection and crashing them both further into the cabin. "Shut your goddamn mouth!" he hissed, grunting as white hot pain went through his side after a fist slammed into this already wounded side. "You're a sick perverted son of a bitch and I'll make you bleed before you die for what you did to my brother."

Saunders got a knee up and kicked out with it to shove the younger man away, rolling to reach for the bat again but instead pulled the twelve inch knife from its sheath on his boot. "Your brother enjoyed it," he taunted, knowing that rage would make the boy careless and then he could get the upper hand. "Sure, John might not have known about my preferences but he sure didn't question too hard or he would've believed the boy." he snorted, slashing the knife in a lazy cut that should've cut a normal opponent.

"Hell, if Singer hadn't been the one to get all concerned about the brat and threatened to call that nosy preacher in, your perfect little brother would've kept me company all summer." he paused to shoot an evil look over at the younger man. "Maybe after I've had some fun with you I'll go pay Sammy a visit. I have something that'll handle him just like before."

Dean had easily dodged the lazy knife attack and had a good half a dozen ways to counter it when he froze at that comment and the burning rage suddenly settled into calm, cold fury. "Mistake," he murmured quietly, eyes blazing. "That was your last mistake, Saunders. Threaten me, fine. I'll just break a few bones and leave you screaming in agony. Threaten to touch my little brother again, to hurt him, nah," he shook his head, freeing the knife he carried. "Now, I'll make you regret ever being alive."

"Try, boy," Saunders flicking the knife and lunging, expecting the boy's rage to make him sloppy he snarled when his feint went wide as Dean leaned back out of the path of the blade while his own blade sliced neatly into the older hunter's arm. "Damn!"

"My Dad might've been an obsessed bastard 99.9% of the time but that other 1% was spent drilling how to fight into his sons and if you hadn't drugged Sammy and kept him drugged and tied then even he could've kicked your sorry ass," Dean shot back, his trademarked smirk enraging the other man. "Jonas, m'man, anger makes you sloppy," he chided, swinging to one side to avoid another thrust.

"Smart mouth asshole," Saunders snarled, losing his temper the longer this fight went. "You want to see the video I have, Dean? It'll give you a whole new perspective on…"

Dean paused in mid-move and dropped to the floor when Saunders kicked his knee, of his bad leg of course, out from under him and then pinned him to the floor to pummel him with fists.

"Your old man would be disappointed in you, boy," he sneered, grunting as a return fist bounced over his jaw. "I'll give Sammy your regards, Dean."

Saunders had put both of his hands around Dean's throat and began to choke him, his attention lapsing as he pictured his next plan. "Go to hell, boy."

As the hands tightened and cut off his air, Dean's hands clawed the floor for some sort of weapon to fight back. Fear for his brother making him fight even as he felt his fingers touch something.

Bringing his one fist up to glance off the man's head, his other come up and plunged what he'd grabbed from the floor into the barrel chest, the knife blade sinking into Saunder's chest up to the hilt.

"…Been…there, done…that,…asshole," he wheezed after the body that had pinned him fell off, a look of startled shock on Saunder's face as the life drained away while Dean dragged himself to a sitting position across the room. "And when you get to hell, tell Lucifer that I'll give him the same if he tries to hurt Sammy."

Silence filled the cabin while Dean leaned against the wall, eyes taking in the damage, the scattered photos and finally the video. Reaching over, he jerked the tape out of the box and pulled the tape out of the case before settling down to allow his thoughts to come.

Saunders was dead. On the one hand, he knew that killing the hunter could add to the hassles he and Sam already have because the hunting community was tight and a man like Jonas Saunders had friends but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

The important thing to Dean was that he could honestly tell Sam that at least this nightmare was gone and he didn't have to fear it or the man any longer… 'Yeah, and that just brings up another doozy of an issue, Dean,' he told himself, hearing something from outside but ignoring it.

Dean knew that while his little brother had always been emotionally open for the most part, Sam tended to shut down if he was scared or the trauma was too bad and he already knew that once Sam woke up fully and remembered recent events that keeping him from shutting down would be hard. To do that it would mean that Sam's big brother would have to either let him slip back into the shell he's been building since Lucifer was set free or accept the biggest damn chick-flick moment in the history of being Sammy's big brother and it'll probably still involve Dean getting beat on.

"Damn, the things I'll do for that kid," he sighed, hearing a voice shout and frowning.

"Dean! Dean, boy, you damn well better answer me!"

Groaning at Bobby's voice, Dean stayed still until both Bobby and Castiel had arrived and then one main question bugged him after Cas was done asking stupid questions. "If you two are here, who the hell's with my brother?"

Balling up a photo he'd picked up, Bobby tossed it aside as he snorted. "Who the hell else would I trust Sam with while the featherbrain and I came to drag your ass back?" he demanded, rolling his eyes. "Ellen."

Wincing as his whole body started to ache, Dean slowly got to his feet. "I guess I'd better burn this piece of…" he stopped when Bobby grabbed his arm.

"You're letting Cas take you to Sam while I clean this mess up," the older man ordered, taking off the battered trucker's cap in a motion that Dean recognized as concern. "Sam was getting edgy when we left and while I trust Ellen with him, I'm not sure of how he'll be when he wakes up."

"He's been calling for you, Dean," Castiel informed as well, tilting his head in the way he tended to do when uncertain. "His tone though seems different and his cries seem…"

Dean's head spun to look at the Angel. "Take me back and then you come help Bobby," he ordered, shoving his pain and new injuries aside in favor of coping with a traumatized younger brother who may or may not remember the past twenty-four hours. "I just want Sam…I just want to make this better for him."

"You know getting him to accept these memories ain't gonna be no cakewalk, boy," Bobby warned, looking at the older Winchester closely and hoping he stayed conscious long enough to help his brother. "It might be better to let him bury them again."

"No, Sam's buried too much and that's what's makin' it so easy for all these assholes to hurt him," Dean shook his head, shoving two of the littered photos into his pocket for later destruction and grabbing the Angel's sleeve. "I'll get him to open up and I'll throw my firm rule on girly-girly outbursts and chick-flick moments out the window and hold him until he does…" he frowned though and sent Bobby a look of weary apology. "I'll also try to keep the damage to your place to a minimum."

"What?" Bobby opened his mouth to yell but found himself alone with a wrecked cabin and a dead body, muttering about stupid idjit Winchesters.

**Back at Bobby's House:**

"I so hate traveling with you, Cas," Dean groaned as his head and stomach rebuked the transport, grabbing onto the doorframe to Bobby's house to keep his balance. "Go back and help Bobby."

The Angel had glanced Dean over, seeing old wounds with fresh blood and new ones that needed tending to. "Dean, you should clean up before…"

"As soon as I check on Sammy, now get going, Cas," he returned, stepping into the house and right into the muzzle of a rifle. "Y'know, I think I see where Jo gets it from since the first time I met her she shoved a rifle into my back."

The dark haired petite older woman slowly lowered the rifle to look carefully, as if judging before huffing out a breath. "Well, tell me the other guy looks better than you, sweetie?"

Ellen Harvelle was about the only woman in Dean's life that he could honestly say scared him but he accepted her gruff talk and attention much like he did Bobby's and right then he was so glad to see her.

"Yeah, he does," he admitted, wondering how much Bobby had told her when he saw the woman's eyes soften as she laid a gentle hand over the one that had clenched. "Is Sammy still…?"

"He's asleep but he's moving more and he started screaming for you about an hour ago," Ellen reported grimly, leading the way to the library door. "He's hurtin' something fierce, Dean."

Sighing, Dean only nodded and started to step in when her fingers tightened on his arm. "Ellen?"

Looking between the two boys that she'd come to think of as surrogate sons, Ellen leaned up to lay a hand on Dean's bruised, razor stubbled face with a touch only a mother could have. "No matter what else, Dean, you did the only thing you could've for Sam now. No one will blame you for killing that motherless son of a bitch."

"Not sure how the hunting community will feel," Dean shrugged, slightly shocked by the vehemence in her words.

"Anyone gives you crap, Bobby and I'll handle it," she promised, looking when a whimper drew their attention. "You go check on him while I see what Bobby has in this house that can be eaten safely."

Dean smiled slightly, slipping out of his demin jacket as he approached the sofa where his brother was still laying. Brushing a hand gently over his forehead, the first thing he didn't like was the fever. He also wasn't thrilled with the way Sam was clutching the pillow to his chest while he held Dean's leather jacket close to his face like a pillow.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Dean slowly laid a hand on a trembling shoulder before releasing the breath he'd been holding. "It's o-kay now, Sammy," he whispered, surprised when his voice shook slightly. "Big brother took care of the asshole and now it's time to take care of you."

_A/N: Chapter 4 will be up soon as Dean struggles to keep his brother from falling into despair. Can he help Sam cope with these buried memories on top of everything else? It'll certainly test the big brother bond that hasn't been as strong recently, to say the least._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dull pain in his head along with sharper pains in his hands and arms and feeling his stomach twist woke Sam Winchester.

Not certain where he was or why he was feeling like crap, Sam laid still to try to regain his bearings. His thoughts were foggy but little bits of memory filtered in here and there.

Dean had been hurt and that was before some lake monster tried to eat him so they'd come to Bobby' for some rest…something made him tense but then his fingers touched a more familiar item.

Slowly opening his eyes to slits, Sam shifted a look to what he seemed to be clinging to up close to his face and the childhood feel of worn leather along with the smell of oil, gunpowder and…Dean made him swallow as he realized it was his brother's leather jacket. Why did he have this when Dean hardly ever let it out of his sight, much less let someone like himself touch it?

Not moving anything else but his eyes in order to keep the confusing pain and nausea at bay, the youngest Winchester noticed the worn wallpaper, book crowded room with the musty smell that it had always had and something he couldn't place yet.

The window blinds and curtains over the sofa were still pulled and those had been covered by a heavy blanket in order to keep any light from entering the room.

Sam quickly realized that he was in the library at Bobby's, lying on the sofa seat by the window but he still had no clue as to why or how. Pain suddenly caught his attention when he noticed that his hands had been bandaged, along with his arms and after a cautious look down, he discovered that he wasn't wearing any type of shirt and there were several other patches of gauze littered there as well.

He noticed that his favorite worn hoodie was lying on the bottom on the sofa but was content to pull the blankets up further and draw the jacket closer as he fought to figure out what the hell had happened.

Dean had been the one hurt. Dean had been the one he had wanted to fixate on getting better and he thought he could remember having his brother on this very sofa but something else nagged him. Moving one hand, he noticed that the wounds extended from his hands to up his arms, like he had run his entire arm through shredded glass…

Breaking glass, crunching metal had Sam tensing as images of him deep in the salvage yard pummeling cars broke through his thoughts. Before he could allow himself to think more on that, a sound caught his attention. A sound of metal softly scraping against…stone?

Sam winced when moving his head too much caused his stomach to twist and his head to sear but slowly he looked for the sound that seemed to be coming from right by him. Not certain what he expected to find, he knew that he hadn't been expecting…Dean.

Sam forced his eyes to clear and find his older brother when he looked down and blinked, sure he was still asleep or hallucinating.

Ever since the convent in Maryland, he and Dean had been more than strained in their relationship. It had been a little better since getting back together to hunt but not like it had been four years earlier when Dean first showed up at Stanford.

If Sam had to admit it to himself, he was always a little surprised when Dean treated him even remotely close to normal, much less like a brother, so this was a shock to him.

Dean was sitting on the floor of Bobby's library with his back against the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him while he casually slid his knife across the whetstone to sharpen it.

To a casual observer it would appear as if Dean was relaxed and calm but Sam knew better. Even though he couldn't see his brother's face fully, he could read the tension in his shoulders, the way he moved his neck occasionally and that little tick that he wasn't aware his face did when upset or worried. His short hair also showed the signs of being wrecked as worried fingers had been pulled through it.

'Why would Dean be worried?' he wondered silently, trying to come up with a reasonable answer since his brother certainly wouldn't have that look over Sam anymore or so he believed.

Risking moving his eyes a little more, Sam looked from under his lashes and noticed other things he found odd. Like, the sliding doors to the room had been pulled shut as if Dean didn't want any interruptions from the other parts of Bobby's house or something. He also noticed the blankets and pillows on the floor right next to the sofa, as if Dean had been sleeping in here instead of one of the beds in the bedroom upstairs that they'd always shared.

The thing that caught his attention more was that the backside of a photo had been hooked to one of the door panels and had several tiny throwing knives embedded in it, something that Sam doubted Bobby would be thrilled with.

Curiosity finally got the better of Sam and he tried to shift without alerting his brother but when pain shot through his chest and arms, he couldn't quite cover the soft moan of pain and was literally shocked when that little sound had the same effect as a gunshot to his brother.

"Sammy?" flipping the switchblade closed and tossing the sharpener toward his duffel, Dean was up to his knees next to the sofa in under a heartbeat. "You comin' back to me here?"

Once the pain had subsided again, Sam was able to see his brother's eyes and blinked. Aside the obvious exhaustion he noticed, he also saw the concern, relief and an underlying of fear that he hadn't seen in his brother in…years.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean knew his brother was awake finally if not fully coherent but the lack of focus and the widening of his hazel eyes made him more than a little worried. Snapping his fingers in front of those very eyes, he was relieved to see he got his attention if only slightly. "Sammy, you in there or what?"

Shaking his head slightly, Sam nodded slowly but his gaze stayed locked on his brother and for the first time noticed the new bruises that he had. Aside the exhaustion that shadowed Dean's face, he saw the lessening swollen bruise on his eye along with several others that he hadn't had before. Then he noticed the broken skin and bruises on his brother's knuckles.

"Wha…what…happened…?" he finally got the words out past dry lips, not aware when a glass of water was pressed to his mouth so he could sip.

Sitting the glass down, Dean considered a reply. "You decided to remodel a few of Bobby's junks outside and neglected to remember that putting flesh through glass isn't a cool move."

He knew that wasn't the answer his brother was looking for even before he noticed the small but standard Sammy bitch-face. He just wanted to keep Sam from finding out how he'd gained the black eye and other cuts for a while longer.

"…to you," came the hoarse reply.

"Oh, that," Dean frowned a little. He'd been sitting with his little brother for the past twelve hours trying to figure out a way to get Sam to open up to him fully but without bringing into the discussion what he had done to Saunders. "I just had a…close encounter with an asshole. Nothing major, Sammy."

Listening to the weak explanation, Sam could still tell when Dean was downplaying something and he wasn't sure if it was because of the gulf that separated them still or something else. He tried to push himself up when a warm hand firmly eased him down. "What?"

"You've been out like a light for over fifty-two hours, Sammy," Dean told him, concern evident in his voice this time as his gaze flicked over his brother as if checking the wounds. "Get up too fast or move to much and you'll end up either face-planting on the floor or hurling all over Bobby's books and neither will be good," he told him while moving a cautious hand up to slid across Sam's forehead to check for a fever. "Fever's gone down but it's still there."

Watching as Dean pushed himself up from the floor in order to go over to the open first-aid kit sitting on the desk for a bottle of pills, Sam frowned.

Fever, sleeping straight through, obvious injuries, memories tingling in the back of his head and his distant, 'could care less' older brother, hovering much like he had once was more telling to the youngest Winchester than anything else…though he still had doubts.

"Cristo," his softly muttered word didn't go unnoticed as Dean shot him a dry look over his shoulder before coming back with pills and more water.

"Cute, Sam. That's real cute," Dean muttered, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. "Take these. It'll ease the pain and kill off any infection you might've gotten from your little beat-down with the junks out back."

Swallowing the pills, Sam was more grateful for the water which soothed a throat that was both parched and raw, it felt like he'd been screaming but…images again came of him in the yard fighting things that he'd…shit…

Shooting a quick look toward his older brother, Sam wondered what Dean knew or if maybe he'd been dreaming or…

"NO! Rufus, you listen up and you listen good! If you even get a whiff of something that says any others are looking into what happened to that bastard then you call me!" Bobby's voice was a low roar through the closed doors but there was no mistaking the tone. "Dean's action were justified, self-defense if you wanna get pushy and anyone that says that the boy shouldn't have killed Saunders will have my shotgun in their face a second later!"

Scrubbing a hand over his face Dean could have groaned, instead he chose for an eye roll. "We really need to soundproof this damn house," he sighed, grabbing for the water before it fell from his little brother's suddenly shaking hands. "I don't suppose tellin' you to…ignore that would work, would it, Sammy?"

Breaths were coming in short gasps again as Sam's thoughts slowly gelled and he jerked at the gentle touch to his shoulder. "Dean, what happened?" he demanded, pushing up despite his older brother's objections but instead of trying to stand yet or escape the suddenly closing in room, he pulled his knees up closer while hugging the worn leather jacket tighter.

Considering for a long moment, Dean looked around the room before finally coming back to rest of his brother's pale face. "How much of the past few days do you remember, Sammy?"

"Huh, other than you getting shot and than almost ate?" he thought about that. "We got to Bobby's, I got you into the house and…"

Dean slowly pushed to his feet, favoring his injured leg more, but after recent events he was now on edge and needed to move, especially when it came to forcing his baby brother to recall things that were going to hurt him.

"I did not almost get ate by anything and you are so leaving out chunks of stuff," he glanced back, green eyes firm as they locked onto his brother's. "Just like you did that summer you were sixteen."

"What?" Sam shot him huge puppy dog eyes that begged silently to drop this and as much as Dean wanted to, he couldn't. "I…don't…what's Bobby mean? You killed…"

Dean had walked to door and subtly checked the lock. He had asked both Bobby and Ellen to give him and Sam space but he wasn't stupid enough to think that if any yelling or, God forbid, crashing occurred that the other two wouldn't be on him in a heartbeat.

He knew that to help his brother now would require him to push Sam into places that neither wanted to go. Something Dean knew would be harder since Sam still believed that Dean hated him and didn't trust him.

It was just a matter of finding the right way to start that was bothering Dean. Seeing the wary fear and unspoken questions staring back at him, he finally moved back to sit on the bottom of the sofa. Wanting to be close to his little brother but not too close that Sam would feel boxed in.

"Yeah, after you passed out I left you with Bobby and Cas and paid Jonas Saunders a little visit that…didn't end well for him."

Sam stared at Dean like he'd suddenly grown a third head. "You killed…" the name just wouldn't come so he ignored it. "Why? Isn't that just like when I killed that…"

"No," Dean corrected quickly and firmly, recognizing the ultimate difference in what he did and what happened that time Meg possessed his brother. "You weren't in control. I knew exactly what the hell I was doing when I went to hunt the son of the bitch down."

"Oh, that makes it so much better," Sam rolled his eyes, still hearing Bobby but chose to focus on his older brother. "We have enough trouble with hunters because of what I did and what I am. Why the hell would you make it worse by killing…"

Noticing that Sam was having trouble keeping his hands still, a sure sign that he was more than a little agitated, Dean reached up to grip one loosely and was rewarded by hazel eyes shooting to his in surprise. "You want to know why I killed him, Sam?" he asked, seeing the tight nod. "What was he?"

The question seemed to throw Sam because he just stared for a long moment before finally tilting his head slightly. "Umm, a hunter?" he tried, seeing Dean narrow his gaze and figuring that was the wrong guess. "Dad and Bobby's friend? Give me something more to go on, Dean because you do not just go off and kill a hunter."

"That bastard was barely a hunter and I wouldn't go as far as saying that he was a friend to Bobby…Dad maybe but that's another mess," Dean countered, wondering to himself if all of Sammy's injuries and issues recently had thrown his head into orbit or if he was being deliberately dense. "Tell me what Saunders was, Sam."

Unable to hold Dean's firm look, Sam looked down at his bandaged hands while trying to pull tighter into himself. "He…he was a…jerk but…"

"Ugh!" Dean slapped his forehead and stood up to pace, needing room to move as his inner eye remembered seeing those pictures of his sixteen-year-old brother in various stages of abuse and he was torn between grabbing and holding onto him or slapping him upside the head. "Sam! Pay attention to me and actually use that giant brain you have. You honestly want to know why I killed Saunders? Fine, I killed him because he touched what belonged to me and you know damn well that that sin carries an instant death sentence."

Blinking, Sam frowned as he slid a look over to where his brother was standing by the fireplace and then away as he struggled to understand. Confusion knit his brow as he slowly swung his legs over so that his feet touched the floor. "Saunders touch the Impala on his way outta here and…Dean?"

That did it for Dean. He had known that Sam's opinion of himself had hit rock bottom ever since Lucifer got loose but enough was enough and his already strained feelings broke finally, lunging across the room he grabbed his brother by the shoulders and only shook him slightly.

"F**k the damn car, Sam," he snapped, anger in his voice. He knew that his baby brother mistook it as anger at him so when he felt Sam go rigid at the expectation of a punch or a slap he struggled to rein his anger in. "Saunders was a damn pedophile. Bobby and Ellen can use the self-defense angle all they want even though the guy did come at me with a knife. He deserved to die for all the kids he hurt over the years, it wasn't just for that I ganked the guy. No, I killed him because he screwed with you. I shoved a goddamn knife in Saunder's chest because he touched my baby brother. Now, you want to come clean with me on what the hell happened that summer or do I really have to push for it?"

"Wha…Dean, I…I don't…" Sam's words trailed together as memories came back, recent ones and his past, of things that he'd fought to bury and the things he'd never wanted his big brother to ever learn. Now, as Dean sat beside him keeping a firm grip on his shoulders, he fought to breathe. He fought for control. "You killed him because …you killed…for me?" he fought to understand. "Why?"

Seeing the utter confusion in the boy's eyes nearly broke Dean more than anything except for the night that Sam died in his arms, but he struggled for control. Moving his hands from trembling shoulders up to grasp his brother's neck, he made those confused eyes meet his.

"Why?" he repeated softly, a trace of a smile touching his mouth for the first time in a long while. "For the same reason I always took care of you, protected you when we were kids. For the same reason I took out the bullies in school who tried to hurt you, for the same damn reason that I always tried to deflect Dad's rages away from you, Sammy. Because you're my baby brother and no one, I don't give a crap who it is, touches you, then or now." Dean gave his brother's neck a slight squeeze. "Is this sinking in yet?"

Sam's eyes were too huge for Dean's liking and since he didn't want his little brother going into a full blown panic attack over the idea that he'd still kill for him, he decided to push a little for answers.

"Alright, we'll let that settle for a minute. Here's the scoop on your last fifty-two hours and then you can feel free to fill in the rest," he was careful this time to keep one hand on his shaking brother by sliding a hand around to the back of Sam's neck while he kept the other one on a shaking knee. "We got to Bobby's, you mother henned me out of the car, onto the porch and then you basically blanked out once you saw good old Jonas. You went all Terminator when the guy went to touch me, I got you into the house while Bobby ditched the asshole and then you went downhill. You drank pretty much a full bottle of Jack and then went out and trashed yourself on some junk cars."

Dean heard the breathing next to him growing more ragged and felt Sam shifting, wanting up but he wasn't ready to let that happen yet. "I know I'm not a Rhode's scholar or anything, hell, I barely got my GED, but I know enough about you to know when you freak out that something major happened and then you threw it out that I'd left you that summer. That was the summer that when I did get back, you wouldn't let me near you. So, little brother, the boogie man's dead and more than likely salted and burned if I know Bobby, it's time to come clean with me. What the hell happened and why the hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded, keeping his voice firm but using the softer tone he only used with Sammy.

Hazel eyes slowly lifted and while they were still a little too big, the shadows were coming as Sam struggled to put a lid on both his emotions and the memories that were now breaking loose. "Not…nothing happened, Dean," he tried to lie but winced as his brother's gaze sharpened and he finally jerked free to stand shakily. "Let this go, please."

Standing but not moving, Dean only shook his head. "I can't do that, Sammy. I want to but for your sake, I can't let you bury this again," he slowly stepped up behind the younger man to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You've buried too much already and this…this crap will kill you if you don't face it and tell me…"

A sudden, unexpected fist to an already sore jaw sent Dean reeling back into the sofa when Sam whirled, shoving the hand away. "I don't want to remember!" he screamed, varying emotions breaking free. "On top of knowing how much I've ruined you, betrayed you, letting Lucifer free, being addicted to demon blood and everything else, I don't want to remember that summer! I don't want to…remember what he did or how Dad…" his voice broke off, turning back to stare at the low burning fire but not seeing it.

"What Dad do, Sammy?" Dean asked quietly, wincing as his wiped blood from his mouth and hoping this wasn't another mistake. "You said Dad wanted you to train with Saunders but you said no and then something happened outside. Tell me what Dad did or said…did he try to find you or…"

"He never tried to find me," the near whisper was tight but the tears were heard even with his back toward his brother, Sam couldn't hide the full amount of shame or disappointment that surfaced. "He just…listened to _him _and let it go." shifting slightly, wide eyes stared at Dean with a look he remembered so well. The lost, confused look of a little boy who never understood why his Dad was always so hard on him. "Why, Dean? Why didn't he look?"

Swallowing hard, the older Winchester could only shake his head as he pushed up but didn't go any closer yet. Knowing that when Sam was ready for physical contact, he'd make the first move. "I don't know, Sammy," he admitted, hating their Father so much right then that Dean wondered if Bobby knew another psychic that could summon John Winchester just long enough for his eldest to tell him exactly what he thought of him, his parenting skills and a few other choice things. Then reminded himself that it was Sam who needed his attention. "Talk to me, Sammy. You know I'll listen. I mean didn't I listen to you after Jess died? I let you babble for hours without saying half the snarky things I could've."

Lifting his eyes for a quick look, as if gauging his older brother's seriousness or reactions, Sam moved around the desk restlessly; his fingers touching a book or any other thing in the room as if he needed the contact to keep him grounded in the present. Normally that touch would come from his brother but he was still leery of that. "Why do you care now?" he asked suddenly, not looking back but hearing the sharp intake of breath. "You didn't give a crap that summer or you wouldn't have broken your promise to stay with me. You wanted to get away from me so when Caleb called…"

A sound of something breaking made Sam look over to see that Dean was staring at him, that twitch back in his face but an old dusty vase that had been sitting on a shelf was now on the floor.

"_Ex-cuse_ me?" he growled, fighting for an even tone but those words were like a bucket of ice water in his face. "Who the hell told you that crap?" Dean had a feeling that he knew what he'd hear and vowed that after he settled his brother back down that he was finding someway to get his Father's spirit within range of a shotgun loaded with rocksalt. "Sam, answer me, who told you that I wanted away from you?"

"Dad."

Turning away before his brother could see the flash of rage that crossed his face, Dean gritted his teeth and fought the urge not to knock half of Bobby's book collection off onto the floor. Taking deep breaths, he heard the more ragged harsh breathing of his little brother and understood now why Sam was so reluctant to come to him after he'd got back to Bobby's.

"You left me and didn't want to be…"

"Caleb had called for information from Bobby when Dad dropped it on him that he was sending me to join him for the summer," Dean interrupted, speaking evenly which was a surprise to him but he kept his back to his brother until he could calm down fully. "It was the first that I'd heard of it when Dad walked into our room that morning and told me to pack. I fought with him that entire damn morning that I didn't need to go hunt with Caleb and that I had promised the summer to you but Dad said I needed some time hunting with others and that was final." he glanced back before turning, seeing his brother's doubt. "Both Caleb and I argued that I could take you with me, that you could get some extra training in with us…hell, I tried every excuse I could think of to get him to let me take you with me but Dad wouldn't budge and short of outright refusal, what the hell else could I have done?"

Sam frowned slightly, edging around the desk toward his brother but stopping. "Why didn't you call then?" he asked quietly, seeing Dean's anger but also recognizing that it wasn't aimed at him. "I waited for you to call every night up until…but you didn't call, De."

Feeling his heart twist at the nickname, Dean frowned as the words dawned on him. "Sammy, I called every night or nearly every night but whenever I did Dad said you were…" he paused as his own words came back to him and his fist clenched. "Dad said…Dad said you were sleeping or Dad said you were busy helping Bobby or…sonuvabitch!"

Books were shoved to the floor when the elder Winchester whirled and his arm took out an entire shelf of books. "Okay, that it so it," he growled, hearing pounding on the door. "I am so finding a way to bring Dad back long enough to kill him. Bobby, go away!"

"What the hell you two idjits doin' in there?" Bobby demanded, not liking the noises coming from behind the locked doors or the tone in the boy's voice.

"We're fine, Bobby. Just leave us be for awhile," Dean called back, rubbing his face tiredly. "I knew the third night when you were 'sleeping' that I should've packed it in and come home," he muttered, now his anger going toward himself. "Sammy, you don't have to believe this but I did call you but Dad always had an excuse and Caleb always calmed me down. Said that if something was wrong Dad would tell me but all he got was more weird until he finally stopped answering my calls. It wasn't until Pastor Jim called that I knew something was messed up and we got back to you as fast as Caleb could drive."

Sam took another step toward but halted, memories resurfacing even as he wanted to offer some small comfort to his brother. He knew how much Dean still looked up to their Father and how badly this was scarring that leftover fragile trust.

"I can't remember where Caleb and I were but it had to have been going on a few weeks since I'd left when finally Pastor Jim called," Dean kept his eyes on the blank back of a photo that he'd been throwing knives into as he walked over to sit on the edge of the desk. Laying his jacket on the side of the desk that was closest to Sam, he was silently offering his brother the security he was going to need.

"Jim said that Bobby had called him pretty frantic. You'd been missing for two days, just up and gone from the yard and I honestly can't say what else he said because my head was buzzing from the second that I heard that you were missing. All I cared about was getting back to Bobby's place and ripping someone's head off," he sighed, still recalling that phone conversation and his downright terror over where his little brother was and how their Father had let him get snatched. "When we got here, Bobby was in the front yard shooting a shotgun into some piece of crap that had been pulled in recently and probably wishing it was Dad since he growled something about Jim kickin' him outta his own house before he killed the son of a bitch…didn't take me long to figure out he meant Dad."

Dean shot a sidelong glance to check on where his too quiet little brother was at and felt some relief that he was still staying close to the desk. "Bobby wouldn't say anything but what a jackass Dad was and couldn't believe he did what he did. He finally did say that you were in the back and I left Caleb to sort it out and headed straight for you, Sammy. Do you remember that?"

"…Yeah," Sam murmured, finally deciding to sit on the opposite side of the desk but kept his back to his brother while his fingers closed on the leather jacket. "I remember."

He did remember the day that Dean arrived back at Bobby's from six weeks with Caleb and he clearly recalled the fear in his big brother's voice when he called to Sam that day until finally finding him in the old junk that he'd taken to hiding in. He also recalled his absolute terror of his brother, of letting Dean find out the truth because he didn't want him to either be ashamed of him or think he was a liar.

Sam, contrary to what he wanted others to think, always remembered that summer, the six weeks that Dean was away, and the events of that weekend. He might've forced the memories down but he never forgot. He never forgot the smug look on Saunder's face when John lit into Sam about lying, the concern Bobby showed when he tried to help the teenage Sam and finally, he never forgot the basic relief when he heard Dean's voice the day he got back. He also recalled the huge fight his father and brother got into later that day.

"I…I was scared of you," he softly admitted, not having to look to know that a pair of intense green eyes were now focused on his back as his brother digested that comment and he hurried to finish before he took the words wrong. "I thought you'd talked to Dad already and thought I'd made it all up so I was afraid when you first reached for me in that car that it was to…" he stopped, unaware of the wetness that dropped from his face. "Everything was still so raw. I…I hurt so damn bad, Dean and I just knew that I couldn't stand for you to…I could take Dad's fist but not…"

"Dad…he hit you?" Dean swallowed, seeing a shoulder jerk but not missing the trembling. "You thought that I'd…damn it. Sammy, you know that I never raised a hand to you and I always believed everything you told me," he hesitated. "Talk to me, Sammy. Tell me what's happening, little bro."

Words. Those simple words made some of the sick tension in his stomach lessen. They were the same words a twenty-year old Dean spoke to a sixteen-year-old Sam the day he found him huddled in one of Bobby's old cars after an hour of trying to get Sam to allow him to come close.

Sam had pulled the worn and battered hoodie on over the fresh bandages more for comfort than warmth and his pulled the old leather jacket closer so his fingers could move over the leather like he had as a kid.

Biting his lip and running a hand through his hair to mess it up like he used to wear it, he glanced over quickly then away again before speaking again, his voice low.

"You…you'd been gone a couple days when Dad started in on me. The extra training, up before dawn, hours of running, hand to hand, weapons, all the usual crap without stopping for lunch or most times dinner since I never was good enough for him. Bobby tried to buffer it but the longer it went the more intense Dad became and then…_he_ showed up,"

It didn't take long for Dean to realize who 'he' was and decided to stay silent, allowing his brother the chance to speak at his own pace…despite the feelings that were building.

"I tried to do everything that Dad wanted. I mean, I really tried, Dean but nothing was good enough for him. I wasn't good enough for him and all I wanted was to talk to you but couldn't because after I whined enough Dad finally said the real reason he let you go with Caleb was that you wanted to get away from me," Sam tightened his grip on the jacket almost like he would if Dean was wearing it..

Dean felt the urge to again tell Sam how much he had fought with their Dad over making him leave but knew it was up to his brother to choose what he believed and he also knew that Sam needed to get all of his feelings out without Dean butting in.

"Even though I didn't believe what he said, it still hurt," Sam went on slowly then his voice changed, dropped to a level that Dean recognized was dangerous. "Dad started doing little small hunts with…him and I'd stay with Bobby. I thought and I think that Bobby thought that once the hunts were done that he…that Saunders would move on but…he didn't. One night I woke up because I heard Bobby and Dad fighting. Bobby said that Saunders was a no-good son of bitch and that he outta kick Dad's ass for even considering it." a small dry laugh came but there was no humor anywhere. "I didn't know what they were fighting over until the next day when Dad said that he wanted me to spend some time with Saunders at his place, training and stuff…and I didn't want to."

Sam was slowly moving on the desk, an inch here or there but he was clearly trying to move closer to his brother without seeming obvious and Dean chose to ignore it as he listened but he didn't ignore the look in Sam's eyes when he glanced at him.

"I didn't like the guy from the first moment I met him. You taught me to trust my gut instincts and my gut was saying to run like hell whenever he got close and most times I could but…"

"Sam, did something happen at Bobby's?" Dean kept his tone level despite his stomach dropping when those same hazel eyes dropped to stare at the floor.

"Once," came the admission and he seemed about to shift back when he heard his brother's soft oath. "I was in here looking up something for Bobby. I guess I was brooding because you hadn't…or I thought you hadn't called and the next thing I know is he had me cornered between the shelf and the wall but before anything really happened Dad came in the house and he backed off."

'Before anything really…' Dean's thoughts to himself were dark but he fought to sit still on his edge of the desk. "Did you tell Dad or Bobby?"

A sound of disbelief was heard as Sam shot him a look that was pure typical little brother that Dean waved the stupid question away and tried again. "Fine, rein in the eye rolling, Sammy. What did Dad say when you told him that…"

"That his new found buddy was a pervert who had just tried to molest his son?" Sam shook his head, looking down at his hands and anywhere but at his brother. "I'm not sure I heard anything past the ringing in my ears after he backhanded me into the kitchen table and grabbed me by the throat, shouting that I was a liar. That it was time I started learning what it meant to be a hunter by someone who wouldn't go easy on me…like he did." he stopped long enough to grab the lead paperweight that always sat on the desk before it was thrown. "That's when I said no. That I'd run to join up with you before I spent any time with that jerk and then Bobby was between us and I ran out into the yard. Dad hardly ever followed us out into the junkyard so I thought I'd be…safe."

The last word was clipped so Dean knew they were reaching tricky ground but remained still, just allowed Sam to keep easing closer.

"I don't have clear memory of what happened next," he admitted, fist clenching until a firm yet gentle hand gripped it and he knew it was a sign that he wasn't alone. "I just remember being outside. I had grabbed your back-up cell, the one you only used when you didn't want Dad to know you were talking with girls. I was calling you when…I felt the needle in my neck but when I went to grab it…that's when he grabbed me from behind with some kind of chloroform or something and I woke up…tied…and…"

As soon as Sam's voice trailed off raggedly and his breathing picked up, Dean finally moved but only to grab for the trashcan sitting next to him. Shoving it toward Sam just before anything that was left in his stomach came up.

"Argh," Sam hated to be sick but he couldn't stop his stomach from revolting as the sudden rush of memories hit him and he felt himself going forward off the desk.

A strong arm caught him around the chest to help ease his descent to the floor where he fell to his knees, clutching the trashcan while he fought to breath when the violent retching became nothing but dry heaves and broken sobs.

"Easy, Sammy, just take it easy," Dean kept a steady arm around his brother as he fought to both breathe and face the memories only he could see. "It's alright now," he promised, kneeling on the floor and ignoring the pull of his leg wound. "Let it all come."

Finally falling back, Sam shot a wary look toward his older brother who was still beside him but had moved his arm and he found it hard to look at his face. "I couldn't fight it, Dean," he whispered, making himself lock eyes with the only person still left whose opinion mattered. "I tried, I wanted to but…the drugs or whatever the hell he used and kept using…" swallowing and tasting sour bile, he finally admitted his worst shame. "What he did, the physical and…other stuff wasn't the worst for me. That I knew Dad wasn't looking for me was bad but the worst was when he…he'd done beating me one time and I wasn't fully drugged because he liked when I could struggle or…cry and I…I didn't care by that point and told him that once Dean got back that he'd kill him and he laughed. Saunders said that you'd believe Dad and think that I made it up and you'd be ashamed of what I 'allowed' to happen and would hate me."

Feeling the body beside him go rigid, Sam tried to get everything out in a rush of words before his brother walked out one last time. "Bobby couldn't get Dad to do anything because Saunders had called him to say that I had decided to train with him. Bobby knew something was wrong and called Pastor Jim finally. I think it was when he came and called Caleb that Saunders knew he had to let me go." a small shudder went through him and he didn't seem to realize when the leather jacket was wrapped around his shoulders. "I couldn't stand you hating me and when I realized that Dad did think I made it all up and blamed me for bruises and other stuff, I had to bury it. I couldn't let you know what had happened when you came back that day. I wanted to die so much those days after he brought me back, between Dad saying everything that he did to the fights between him and Bobby and then I heard you fighting with him…that I just wanted to…

"I never wanted you to hate me, Dean so I wouldn't let you close even when you did come home. I knew that if you found out that…those days were so damn hard for us and I just wanted out. Dad said I was a liar and he didn't want your head filled with my delusions and…Dean!" a loud crash when the desk suddenly overturned as Dean shoved to his feet, fury plain in his face and Sam instinctively slid over to lean against the sofa to avoid his brother's anger when the expected attack came.

"When we got here and I saw him, I…I still didn't want you finding out because on top of everything…on top of hurting you the way I have, going with Ruby, the whole demon blood thing, starting the Apocalypse and so much more I knew that what…acceptance you were willing to give me again would vanish. Because you sure as hell wouldn't want to deal with me now," Sam mumbled, looking away when Dean whirled back to gaze at him. "I had hoped that we could finish fixing the issues but…I'll…understand if you take off and I'm sorry you got into this before you knew everything or…"

Sam tried to stand by supporting himself on the sofa but recent events, exhaustion, pain, and emotional turmoil took their toll and he felt himself lose balance but before he could catch himself, strong hands were holding him up and then helping to ease him back to sit on the floor. "Wha…?"

"Dad was a cold-hearted, selfish bastard who filled your head with as many lies as Saunders did," Dean regretted his move to overturn the desk since he immediately knew that his baby brother mistook it as anger at him. He had to get rid of some of it before he even tried to approach this reasonably since calmly was still out of the question. "He put way too much pressure on you and he sure as hell should have listened to you when you told him the first damn time what that pervert tried."

Kneeling back down, he reached over carefully to lift his still shaking brother's head up in order to meet and hold his eyes, not liking how wide his pupils were looking again. "You were sixteen, Sam and no matter how well trained you were you couldn't have fought against both an older opponent and the drugs. You should still have been able to trust the adults around you or at the very least you should have had your big brother around to back you up and that's my fault, I should have refused to go with Caleb no matter what Dad said."

Eyes already blown from shock got even larger with those words since Sam had never heard his brother talk about their father like that. "Not…not your fault, De," he mumbled, dropping his voice and trying to escape the firm eyes that were holding his. "I shoulda just…tried harder, been better or…" he heard his voice break and just wanted to curl up. "God, why did he let it happen, Dean? Why didn't Dad believe me?"

"Aw, hell with this. C'mere, Sammy," Dean growled, pulling his little brother fully into his arms and saying the hell with his standard no-chick flick rules as the younger man went willingly and latched on in the same way that he had as a child seeking comfort after a nightmare. "I don't know why Dad let any of it happen, Sammy and I know this hurts you but it's over. That bastard is dead and will never hurt you or anyone again."

"Hunters, De'n. They'll come after you for killin' him and…" the emotions that Sam buried suddenly came out and he didn't care if he was clutching his older brother like he'd done as a kid, he just held on and buried his face against Dean's neck, his fist clutching his brother's shirt in a death grip as if looking for protection as well as comfort. "Don' want you bein' hurt or anything cause of me and…"

Tangling one hand in brown shaggy hair, Dean pulled his brother closer with his other arm while sitting fully on the floor and let him cry while he fought to keep the tears out of his own eyes. For so long since returning from Hell, he had wanted his little brother back and it had taken him a long time to fully understand that despite the changes in Sam, most of them not his fault, that he was still Dean's baby brother. The boy that Dean had practically raised and now it was time to make Sam understand that.

"Sammy, what was the first thing I ever taught you?" he asked quietly, keeping his hand gentle as it carded through sweat soaked hair to sooth and soon felt the boy's body start to relax.

"Don' touch your stuff," came the softly mumbled reply since Sam still had his face buried against Dean's neck.

Being sure to keep that one hand either in Sam's hair or on his neck, Dean grinned weakly but shook his head. "No, smart guy. The other thing I taught you that week. What was it?"

"…Oh," Sam swallowed the lump that formed. "Tell you if anyone ever messes with me and you'd take care of it."

"Yeah, your awesome big brother would take care of them," Dean nodded, hearing the sobs lessening down to just a few sniffles but didn't try to move his brother. He just eased him closer and let Sam make his own choice as to where he'd go. "That rule still applies even now when you're a Sasquatch."

Hearing words that he'd been wanting to for months, the sobs that he'd just managed to stop threatened to start again though doubts still nagged. "Duty and obligation or because you want to?" he asked in a low voice. "You still don't know everything about…"

"You'll always be my little brother, Sam and regardless of what anyone says we will always be family and you could be a mass murderer and I'd still kill for you. I'd still die for you," Dean replied, easing him back in order to lock eyes and hating the doubt he still saw reflected in hazel eyes that used to watch him so openly. "Sam, I wish that I could take back the past couple years. Hell, I wish I could take back your whole damn childhood so that you could've had that normal life you always wanted but I did the best I could…and apparently that wasn't enough considering what I let happen."

"Saunders wasn't your fault, Dean," Sam seemed shocked at the thought and finally began to realize how close he was being held. "Dean?"

Firmly gripping the back of Sam's neck to bring it closer to his own, Dean nodded. "He wasn't your fault either, little brother and neither was freeing Lucifer or starting the Apocalypse. You were played by Ruby that whole time and were just trying to make it better. I wish I had seen it sooner. I wish I had seen so much sooner but it's over and from now on, if anyone messes with you they mess with me. Got it, Sammy?"

Sam slowly realized that his brother had been using his nickname a lot more recently and another weight lifted. "Are you…I mean, knowing about Saunders and all…are you…?"

"Sammy, I am not ashamed of you. I just wish that killing him would take the pain away and I hate that you had to go through that alone but nothing would ever make me ashamed," Dean assured him, pulling the two photos he'd taken from that cabin out but was careful to keep them from Sam's actual view. "The rest burned up when Bobby took care of the cabin and stuff but I wanted you to understand that nothing from that weekend will ever be used to hurt you again."

The younger hunter had tensed as soon as he saw the crumpled photos in his brother's hand. He recalled vividly the man taking photos and wondered if they'd ever resurface. Now as he looked, he couldn't stop the shiver but frowned when he was pulled to his feet and a lighter was placed in his hand.

"I kept these because I wanted us to burn 'em so you could be sure," Dean held the photos out and waited until a shaking hand reached out to take them.

Not wanting to touch the photos much less look at them, Sam reluctantly turned one over and felt himself tense, fighting the urge to throw up or run he slid a glance next to him when a familiar hand gripped his shoulder and he unconsciously leaned into the support his brother offered.

Igniting the lighter, Sam caught the edge of the photos on fire and let them start to burn before tossing them into the fireplace. Watching them burn up, he was a little surprised to find the tension in his body and gut smoothing out.

He knew he would always have the memories and inner fears but as Sam watched the flames burn and felt the hand gripping his shoulder move on instinct up to the back of his neck he also understood that something else had been smoothed out. Sitting the lighter on the mantle he raised a shaking hand up to scrub his burning eyes, surprised to find his face wet.

"Sammy," Dean had kept his gaze on his little brother and never missed one instant of emotion that trailed over his face. He kept watching until he saw the first tear fall and saw the shaking hands and squeezed his fingers slightly over the neck of his brother. "Is it over?"

"It'll never be really over," Sam admitted softly, shifting to look fully next to him with a small smile that had a hint of his former self. "But it's a start. Are we good?"

This question made Dean consider for a second before finally cracking a smile that took Sam back years to just after he'd rejoined his brother on the road. "Yeah, Sammy, we're good." he replied, then schooled his face back into typical Dean fashion when he added. "But if you tell anybody about what went down in here I'll deny it and kill you."

Before Sam could think of a reply he was tugged forward into a tight embrace that told him more than the words he knew his brother had a hard time expressing. Hesitating briefly, he tentatively returned the move until he felt a hand tangle in his hair again in a comforting move that Dean had used to do when they'd been kids. He then held on tighter and let himself be held, deciding not to mention his older brother's firm no chick-flick moments rule.

As if knowing what Sam was thinking, Dean smirked while giving the mop of shaggy brown hair a final tousle. "I'll deny this moment for the rest of my days, kiddo," he warned lightly, easing back to see his brother's eyes seemed less shadowed but tired.

In fact, if Dean was any judge, and he usually was where his little brother was concerned, Sam looked worn out, wiped out, and ready to fall down. It was only that slight knowledge that had him grasping the younger Winchester by the forearms before his legs gave out.

"Okay, lets get you upstairs into bed so you can sleep the rest of this off while I clean up before Bobby kills me," he decided, talking easily to keep Sam awake even when he shook his head with a yawn.

"Nah, I…I'll help, De'n," another yawn and a stumble that nearly took both brothers down if Dean hadn't been faster. "My fault…"

Managing to get his sleepy but bull-headed younger brother upstairs to the room that had always been theirs, Dean eased him down onto the bed furthest from the door before he reached for a blanket. "Nothing's your fault, Sammy," he said this quietly and not meaning just this recent event.

He had started to reach for the jacket that Sam still had when fingers gripped it tightly while sleepy hazel puppy dog eyes opened to watch him and he sighed in fond exasperation. "Fine, you can keep the jacket but I get it back when we leave Bobby's."

Sam nodded but suddenly something clouded his eyes, worry and fear as he reached out for his brother. "Can't sleep, Dean," he mumbled, trying to explain. "If I sleep, he'll come and I don' wanna deal with him. I can't deal, not right now."

It took a couple seconds for Dean to understand who his brother was talking about and he shook his head, brushing a gentle hand over Sam's forehead to still feel a slight fever. "Cas found some new kind of signal or something that he and Bobby put around the house that keeps Lucifer from popping into your dreams. The only thing getting in your head while you sleep is the normal everyday crap…like clowns."

"Hate clowns," came the muttered reply as Sam relaxed into the covers while his held onto Dean's jacket like he once had his favorite toy but as Dean sat down on the edge of the bed to wait he heard a sleepy… "Thanks, De," before Sam fell fully to sleep.

Scrubbing a tired hand over his face, he glanced down at his sleeping twenty-seven year old brother to see that he was curled much like he had when he was six and sick. "No problem, Sammy," he whispered, taking the blankets off his bed to place over Sam and again carding his fingers through hair that he really needed to remind Sam to cut but a smile formed for a brief moment until he looked out the window and remembered what was waiting for them out there. "From now on, little brother, it's us against the world. Just like it always has been and no one touches you without going through me."

Dean waited until he was certain that Sam was sleeping and would stay asleep before easing out of the room to go back downstairs. He was hoping to straighten the library before Bobby saw the mess but as he got the middle step he was stopped dead at the sight of the older hunter sitting at the base of the steps with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other.

"You'd better hope you didn't break anything good, boy," he growled, shoving both items at one of his favorite idjits before wheeling away. "Ellen insisted on fixing real food so get that mess cleaned up, get yourself cleaned up and don't wake your brother or I'll take that broom to your backside."

Grinning despite the lecture that he was sure to come, Dean took a step but paused to call over his shoulder. "Bobby? You know anyone who can maybe…raise a spirit?" he asked with what he hoped was total innocence but was disappointed when he saw the smirk thrown his way.

"I might have a spell that could do that since no psychic will come anywhere close to me after what happened with Pamela," Bobby responded, narrowing his gaze as he took in the boy's expression and not having to ask whose spirit he wanted. "You sure you want that?"

Eyes slid up to the ceiling to where his brother slept, Dean didn't even hesitate with consideration. His mind had been made up the first time Sam broke in his arms. "Yeah, I want this. I want him."

Muttering about bad plans and stupid idjits who are too hard headed for his own good, Bobby slowly nodded. "Fix my damn library and we'll see about this cockamamie plan later."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean called, sighing as he stepped into the room and took in the overturned desk, piles of books on the floor and reached for his phone. "Cas, wanna do me a favor?"

_A/N: Sorry this one took so long. It was slightly harder than I gave it credit for. I appreciate all the comments and reviews everyone has given this story. They mean the world. _

_Look for the epilogue soon (hopefully today or tomorrow) to see who Dean wants to chat with and that goes._


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue

"This is such a damn bad plan, Dean," Bobby Singer warned for what he figured had to be the seventieth time in an hour. "You dealt with Saunders, Sam's coping as best as he can. Shouldn't you just leave it alone now?"

He'd known once the older boy had learned the truth what his next move would be once he was sure his little brother was as safe as he possibly be. He'd just been hoping that for once Dean would use what brain cells he had…not that he'd been shocked when that hope flew out the window.

"I can do it alone, Bobby. Just leave the spell and you can go back in the house with Ellen," Dean Winchester remarked calmly while loading rock salt rounds into his shotgun. "It might be better if you were with her in case Sammy woke up anyway."

"That featherbrained idjit you like to call an Angel is in the house and there ain't no way in hell that I'm lettin' you do this alone," Bobby growled, slapping an ancient leather bound book that was sitting on his lap.

Calling a spirit from beyond was always a risky move in the right circumstances. The middle of the Apocalypse with Angels, Demons and who knew what else prowling around was most definitely not the right circumstances.

Not that Dean Winchester was listening to that. No, he'd made up his mind and he was hellbent on calling up a spirit either with the help of his surrogate father or not.

Dean understood that Sam would always have issues with his past and that while he was certainly better off than he had been before they arrived at Bobby's, there was one final thing that Dean himself needed in order to put these past days to rest.

"You plannin' on telling your brother about this move?" Bobby asked while sitting the correct candles out and studied the spell. "This does concern him."

"Yeah, it does and no, I don't," was the clipped reply as Dean looked to be sure the other wards and signals would hold before he glanced down at the shotgun again. "Coping with the memories of that bastard is one thing for him but there's no way in hell will I make him face this sonuvabitch. That's what his always awesome big brother is for."

"Dean…" Bobby wanted to advise against this since he didn't want either boy hurt more but he had seen the cold rage in Dean's eyes before and knew that he'd do this with or without backup. "Alright, just promise me to give him a chance before reacting."

Turning on his best look of total innocence, Dean gazed at the older hunter. "Bobby, when have you not known me to the picture of total calm and patience?"

"Let's see…you were four," Bobby shot back with a snort, beginning to read the ancient spell in Latin while adding the correct ingredients to the small bowl before tossing the lit match inside and watching a puff of blue smoke ignite from it. "Now we wait."

"Last time he said that to me Cas about blew down a roof on our heads," Dean grumbled but did lean back against the edge of the old table in Bobby's barn.

He had chosen to do this spell away from the house for two reasons. The first being, he did not want his brother upset or involved. The second, he was not cleaning or fixing anymore damage to Bobby's place than he had already and he was pretty sure he was going to be causing some damage soon.

After waiting several minutes, he finally stood up with a near snarl. "C'mon! Show your damn face!" he shouted to the rafters, turning in a circle but soon felt the change in the area even before a slight breeze blew through and several candles got snuffed out. "You got more strength than that so quit with the damn parlor tricks and show your goddamn self."

"Dean, be careful," Bobby warned, looking around closely even while lifting his own weapon but he knew the boy was beyond advice know. "Damn fool Winchesters."

A harder breeze blew through and Dean felt the motion like something touching his arm but he jerked back, narrowing his eyes. "Stop screwin' around and show yourself!" he snapped, rolling his eyes. "I mean it, I know you're here so just stop playing and come out. Right now. Dad!"

The last shout had a command in it that Bobby had never heard come from this particular Winchester. He was considering advising caution again when a strong burst of air blew through the barn, nearly taking his ever present cap along with it when a voice came from the shadows that he'd long ago thought he'd never hear again.

"Son, I think I taught you about using a certain tone when calling up spirits."

Seeing Bobby's face pale a shade, Dean smirked. Turning slowly to face the dark corner where the voice had come from and where a silhouette could be seen, he nearly laughed at the irony of the stern lecturing tone given that it's owner had been dead for three years.

"Actually, this is as close to a respectful tone as you're likely to get from me," he shot out, the shotgun held loosely in his fist as he motioned with its barrel. "Get your ass outta the shadows, old man. We need to talk."

"Shit, the idjit's pushin' it tonight," Bobby groaned, feeling the air get thick but watched as the silhouette stepped from the shadows and he looked at John Winchester for the first time in nearly a decade.

Eyes narrowed, Dean took in his father appearance slowly as if looking for some telltale sign of this being a trick.

John still appeared as he had the last time Dean had seen his father in that cemetery after the Devil's Gate was opened and he'd escaped hell. Same clothes, same beard, same typical John Winchester look and while normally that was enough to make Dean hesitate or show the same quiet respect he had always shown his father, this time all he could see was a man who had betrayed his son one too many times.

"Dean," John's voice still carried the same gruff tone of command it always had and it was clear that he was not caring for the way his oldest was acting. "You know it's dangerous to cast spells like…"

"Shut. Up." Dean spat, teeth clenching and it was taking every ounce of control to keep the shotgun lowered. "You do not get to tell me what to do right now. Not you, not after what I'd learned these past days."

Narrowing his eyes at his son, John frowned as he stepped closer but stopped when Dean's body tensed. It was an action that he was familiar with but he had never considered that it would ever be used when addressing him. "I take it you want to talk about something?"

"Yeah, you could day that," Dean's face didn't show the hate he was feeling as he was too good at schooling his facial expressions for that. His voice on the other hand did show something. That and the way his finger was sliding the trigger of his weapon. "Yeah, Dad, I had Bobby summon you because we need to talk but first…first there's something else I need to do."

Both John and Bobby tensed at that since both men knew there was no telling what to expect from Dean when he was in this frame of mind. Neither man nor spirit was ready for when the shotgun lifted suddenly and a load of rock salt shot straight through his father's shocked spirit form.

"Goddamn it, Dean!" Bobby shouted, blinking at the sudden rash act. "I thought you were going to listen before acting!"

"I will, after I did that!" Dean snapped back, pumping the shotgun in preparation for another blast when he whirled. "Touch me and I use a hellava lot more than rock salt," he warned coldly, facing the furious face of his father when he reappeared.

Still seeming shocked by his son's actions, John glared but stepped back only slightly. "You used a damn spell to bring me back just to blast me with rock salt?" he demanded harshly, using the stern glare that never failed to back either of his boys down…until now.

"No, I had Bobby use a spell to bring you across so after I was done saying what I have to then I'd use a different damn spell to send you back in a hell of a lot more pain than you left with originally," Dean replied tightly. Not backing down or feeling the slightest bit intimidated by the glare this time and shooting his trademark cocky grin as he added. "The rock salt was icing."

Not caring for his son's behavior, John frowned deeply but kept his eyes locked on the cold set of green ones that were glaring back. "Alright, Dean. Clearly something's bothering you so why not just tell me what's wrong. Tell me why you're doing this and where your brother is…Dean!"

Only a sharp word from Bobby kept Dean from firing again and he struggled to rein in the fury. "You do not say his name," he gritted, walking away just to get space to think. "After all the crap you laid on him, you do not ever say Sammy's name."

"You want to tell me what the hell's wrong with my son, Singer?" John shot Bobby a sour look as if expecting him to have the answers. "I'm starting to think you may need to toss a little holy water on him."

Grabbing a tight hold of Dean's belt to keep him from going after the spirit they'd worked all night to summon, Bobby shot his former friend a dark look. "This is between you and Dean, John, but you damn well better listen to him and keep your mouth shut before he does let loose on you with something worse than that barrel of rock salt he has," he warned, letting go of the younger Winchester but not before he gripped his arm. "Keep your damn head ya idjit."

Taking a deep breath to level his emotions, Dean slowly lowered the shotgun and faced the spirit of his more than slightly pissed off father and smirked. "Y'know, after you died I dreamed of having a chance to talk to you again but not like this," he admitted, leaning against the table casually but the tick in his face told how his emotions were twisting. "We…need to talk Dad."

"I sort of figured that when you _shot _me," John snorted, watching his son more warily now and seeing the signs of anger. "Dean, I understand you're still angry with some of the decisions I made but everything I did, the choices I made were for reasons I thought were correct," he began seriously, seeing his son lift his eyebrows in the way that had always irritated him. "Yes, I might've laid too much on you in regards to…" he stopped as soon as Dean's lip twisted up. "I'm sorry that I put all the responsibility on you to look after your brother. I should have…I should have done it when I realized what was happening."

"Oh crap," Bobby groaned, reading between those lines and hoping Dean didn't but saw the stance change ever so slightly. "John, I said keep your mouth shut not piss that boy off more than he is."

"You should have done it," Dean repeated softly, squeezing the bridge of his nose as if in pain as he registered those words. "That translates into you regret not killing Sam yourself when you learned the truth of Yellow Eye's plans for him?" he asked, the warning clear in his voice. "You knew all about it didn't you? The plans, the blood, all of the crap that Sammy had dumped on him…you knew about it all along, didn't you?"

John walked around the barn, memories still vivid of his visits here. "I found out about the demon two years after he left for Stanford but it wasn't until I got the final lead on the demon that I learned about his plans," he admitted, hearing the sharp breath and turning to gaze at his eldest. "Dean, I thought that killing the demon would stop his plans and…"

"And failing that, you thought I'd just pop a cap in my little brother one day," Dean rolled his eyes, laying the shotgun on the table finally in order to straighten fully. "You told me to kill the boy that I had damn well raised and you think that was alright?" he demanded. "Did you even care how screwed up that was or what it would do to me?"

"It was all I had left, son," the older man replied, stepping closer but a simple glare stopped him. "Dean, if I could've handled all of this then I would have but I had to save your life and you were my only other option to take care of the situation if he got out of control."

Slamming a fist down, Dean couldn't believe this and he had yet to broach the real reason he'd brought his father to the barn. "The 'situation' was your son and you honestly thought that killing him was the right thing? God, I told him you were a selfish cold-hearted bastard but you are so much more."

Jerking his head around, he glared at his son. "You watch your mouth, son. I may be dead but I'm still your father and I knew what was best for both of you."

"Oh, right. Just like you knew what you did was right the summer Sam was sixteen," Dean nodded, a dry smile forming as he crossed his arms. "You were right when you made me break a promise to my little brother, you were right when you shipped me off to hunt with Caleb so you could torture Sammy in training because I wasn't there to soften it for him. You were so right when you hit him the day he told you that your new best bud had tried to molest him in Bobby's house. And you were even more right when you let Sam vanish for two damn days and believed some perverted pedophile over your own sixteen year old son!" he snapped, not bothering to keep the hate and anger from his face any longer when he got to within an inch of his father's startled face. "You called him a liar when he got back and didn't believe him. You didn't even try to look for him, did you, Dad?"

John stared at Dean, a look of both surprise and regret forming as he struggled for words against the accusations that were being thrown at him. "Dean, listen to me…"

" 'Watch your brother, Dean. Look out for Sammy, Dean. Nothing is more important than watching out for Sammy, Dean,'" he mocked, throwing a disgusted look at his father. "Ever since I was four goddamn years old I heard that and I did every thing you ever asked me to do but the one time in his life that Sam needed his father you screw him over. You broke him in ways that Saunders couldn't even do because all that bastard did was molest and assault your son. You showed him that you didn't give a rat's ass about anyone but yourself and your own needs and wants!"

Being hit by a spirit was nothing new to Dean but he had to admit that being backhanded by his dead father was something for the journal. Holding up a hand to stop Bobby who had moved slightly, he just touched his jaw lightly. "You can hit and strike out all you want but to won't change a damn thing, Dad. You sent me away from Sam, you lied to him about me calling him…you told him that I went with Caleb to _get away from him_!" he yelled, that still sticking in his gut. "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Dean, it isn't the way that Sam made it out…damn!" John hissed when his son's fist actually landed a solid right cross on his spirit form. "How the hell…"

"A pal gave me something to make it possible to hit a spirit," Dean showed the temporary tattoos that Castiel helped him put on. "Sam was your son! You should have protected him, listened to him! Not take the word of some bastard who drugged and kidnapped him from Bobby's yard and kept him tied and drugged for two freakin' days so he could…" he stopped, images flashing again and he had to push them back or see his little brother clinging to him earlier.

Locking cold eyes with John, Dean shook his head. "Tell me why you separated us. Tell me why you let that sonuvabitch touch my baby brother and why you didn't do anything about it? Tell me, Dad!"

Glancing at Bobby only to see the barrel of a shotgun aimed his way, John finally sighed and scrubbed his face. "Sam was sixteen years old and not taking hunting seriously. His attitude was getting out of hand and had been since Flagstaff," he began grimly, not wanting this discussion and surprised that Dean was bringing it up. "You were always going too easy on him in training. Not going full out with him in hand to hand or pushing him in weapons. When he said he was tired, you backed off and Dean, I couldn't let that go on so I needed him to train with someone who wouldn't back down. Someone who would push him past the barriers he put up and make him see that what we did wasn't a game."

"He didn't want to hunt so no he didn't take it as gospel like I did!" Dean snapped, stalking away only to whirl back. "You wanna know why I held back as you say? Because I was four years older than he was. A full on blow from me would have broken a bone and I wouldn't hurt my brother like that. Y'see, I was the one who held Sam when he was fifteen and you broke his goddamn arm while 'training'. Bobby, don't shoot him until I'm done."

Dean had heard the sound and knew the grizzled hunter was now fuming but had to focus on his father. "I refused to do that. I refused to see the exhaustion in him when he was pushed too far for too long, so yeah. I coddled him, sue me but I actually loved the kid_ I_ raised. You think Mom would be impressed with how you handled Sammy?"

He knew the blow was coming but didn't give a crap. He'd had worse at his father's hands and was too angry to feel anything but saw John hesitate even though the mention of Mary brought fury to his face.

"You touch that boy again, John Winchester, and I swear to God that this time I'll empty both barrels into your hide and cast an exorcism that'll literally spin your damn head," Bobby growled from where he was sitting, shotgun aimed perfectly to strike John without touching Dean. "I told you what Saunders was up to and you wouldn't listen. Just like you wouldn't listen to Sam when he practically fell in my door that day, all beat to hell and back."

"Hey, how come this was left out either your version or Sammy's?" Dean demanded, scowling but remembering to focus. "Never mind, I'll adjust but I still want to know why you…why didn't you listen to him, Dad? If it had been me, would you have?"

John's eyes dropped before lifting again, the answer plain and he saw his son's jaw clench. "Dean, Jonas was a good man who I believed could do for your brother what neither of us could and yeah, Sam told me something but your brother had been lying a lot to me that summer to get outta doing things so…"

Glass broke as a candle was hurled through John's spirit form. "Did you even look at him?" he growled, recalling the bruises he briefly saw on his little brother before Sam pulled away. "Did you let Bobby take him to a doctor for the welts and other wounds? No, because you knew that any hospital would have had CPS on your ass faster than a wendigo could move just like you didn't want me back that soon. You knew damn well that I was close to tellin' you where to go and taking Sam away. Pastor Jim had already said we could come to him." 

"I was your father, Dean, Sam was my son and it was my choice on how he was trained or raised," John broke in, shaking his head. "Jonas never gave me any reason to believe that the marks he inflicted were anything out of the ordinary for tough discipline."

"Right and his nightmares for months after that, or his aversion to cameras or how he shied away from even a casual touch for months were all perfectly ordinary too," Dean sneered, staring hard but this time with disappointment. "I know pretty much when your opinion of me changed but when the hell did Sam just become a token item in your arsenal? You nearly beat me half to death for letting him run away to Flagstaff but then you practically sell him to your buddy and for what? What did Saunders offer you, Dad that made it okay to hurt your own kid?" he demanded.

"It wasn't like that, Dean!" John finally snapped, not liking what his son was saying and trying to forget those vivid days of that summer. "I had to make Sam stronger. He had to be strong enough to fight what was coming and…"

Dean's temper cracked, stepping into his father's face. "He was sixteen! He'd just gotten over pneumonia after you made him train all night in the woods in a freakin' rainstorm! He just wanted to be normal for one goddamn summer! He just wanted to spend time with…crap," he stared hard when he caught the flash of expression. "Tell me that you didn't let all that happen to Sam because he wanted to spend the summer with me because that would be such a bad thing to say to me right now."

"You were weak with Sam around you, Dean," John replied grimly. "You spent more time looking after him than you did yourself. I needed you to hunt with Caleb to rebuild that strength while I tried to make Sam stronger so that he didn't rely on you so much but…I didn't know how far Jonas would go with him."

"Say what?" Dean blinked, sure he heard wrong. "You didn't know how far he'd go? Does that mean that you had a freakin' clue as to what that pervert did to Sam and you didn't kill him?" his hand was drifting toward the shotgun again. "You knew that he molested my brother and didn't think to tell me?"

"Dean, you'd have killed before I could explain why Jonas did what he did," John sighed, blinking out of sight just as a load of rock salt shot his way. "Dean, stop and let me explain…"

Slamming new rounds into the weapon, Dean pumped it with a sharp jerk before aiming it. "I don't want to hear it anymore, Dad. I grew up idolizing you even though nothing I did was good enough for you. I raised Sam for you. I made sure he was safe growing up in all those motels you dumped us in. I made excuses for when you didn't come back for weeks on end. I made sure he had food to eat no matter where I had to steal it from and I buffered the two of you from the day he turned twelve and disobeyed outright the first time!"

Furious beyond reason now, Dean was surprised that his voice was low. "I threw away any chance at being normal because of all that crap you drilled into my head and for what? So you could take the cowards way out and leave your sons behind to handle all the crap that you couldn't? You knew about Sam, the demon blood, Yellow Eyes before you dropped outta sight. Did you know the rest?"

"The rest of what, Dean?" John was cautious now. He knew when his son's voice dropped to this low calm tone that he was at his most dangerous and he usually had only heard it when Dean was in protective big brother mode.

"About the seals, that when you got out of hell that it pretty much sealed my fate down in the Pit, about your sons being vessels for Michael and Lucifer and the whole Apocalypse? Did you know about any of that?" he asked, knowing the answer before he saw his father's face shift to the grim hard stone visage he used when he was about to lie. "You did."

Reaching a hand out to comfort, he snapped it back when the rock salt went by his head. "Dean, I thought I'd prepared you to handle what came. When I saved you after the accident, I didn't count on you making that damn deal when Sam was killed in Cold Oak. I thought you'd live, handle it if you saw Sam going dark and none of that would have to happen," John tried to explain. "When I got out of hell that night and helped you kill that demon, it was so hard to look at you and know that you'd given your life for…"

"For my little brother," Dean cut him off firmly, eyes burning from the tears he refused to let fall as his heart hurt. "I sold my soul for a kid who had trailed after me every step I took from the day he learned to walk to me. I gave my life because I refused to let Sammy die and God help us both, if I could save him from the pain he's in now or the threat Lucifer is to him then I'd die again if only to make my baby brother safe, happy, and normal."

"Dean, stop," John swallowed, seeing the pain his eldest was in. "You have to stop sacrificing and do what you need to," he urged, seeing Bobby frown as he took a deep breath. "I knew what you'd have to do as Michael's vessel, son and you need to let go of…"

The shotgun blasted right through where John's heart had been when it still beat. "Don't you dare tell me that, you selfish sonuvabitch!" Dean snarled, green eyes slitting in rage. "We were your sons! Sam and I loved you even though you treated us both like crap! You were supposed to protect us, not train us to eventually kill one another!" waiting until he saw his father's form reappear, he aimed again. "If you were going to pull this crap then you should've raised your own damn kid because letting me take care of Sammy just assured that I'd kill for him and if that means facing the damn devil down then I will!"

"Dean, listen to me…" John tried to get his son to listen but stopped when the shotgun rose again. "I know you're angry with me and I don't expect you to understand my reasons but I did have…"

"I blamed myself all those years after Sammy left when you started hunting solo and leaving me on my own. I reasoned that I still wasn't good enough for you and I believed that! I believed that I wasn't as strong as you in hell when Alastair broke me in thirty and that it was because I wasn't good enough for you that you left us," Dean felt sick that he had lived his life looking up to this. "It wasn't my fault or Sammy's. It was you. So long as Sam was around, you needed me to control him. After he left for college you could get back to hunting. You didn't give a damn what I did. You didn't break in Hell because you just didn't care enough to have feelings that he could use. Hell, you probably would have broken Alastair if the gate hadn't opened. Do you even care about us? About Sammy?"

John slowly turned as if to walk away but stopped. "You're my sons, Dean. You're my blood and you're Mary's sons so I will always love you but…" he hesitated before turning back with a look that Dean had grown up recognizing. Single minded determination. "Son, there were things that I knew would happen and even though I tried my hardest to protect you and your brother, I knew the only thing that could save you would be to make you strong enough to be your own men. Only then could you survive. You have that strength but Sam…"

"Sam's been used and abused by people he's trusted too much and that's why he was able to be used by Ruby and by you," Dean replied, the shotgun held firm. "If you would've eased up a little on him then maybe he would have given you more trust but what ruined Sam, Dad was when you chose to believe that lying sack of perversion over him. So now, let me tell you what I've been wanting to from the moment I found out about this fun little excursion."

He took a deep breath, glanced to Bobby before letting his gaze settle on his father. "I tried to keep believing in you. I protected Sammy, I let you ruin our lives by moving from one place to another and worst of all, I let you make me turn my innocent little brother into something that he never wanted to be. The sad part is, it was all for nothing," Dean shook his head, not aware of the single tear that fell. "You only cared so long as we were useful. I once thought Yellow Eyes was right and Sam was your favorite with the way you wanted him protected but the truth is, you don't give a crap about either of us and you haven't since Mom died."

Bobby wasn't sure where this was leading but he knew John well enough to know he was getting angry. Wondering if a shout for an Angel might be in order if things went bad between father and son.

"Sam once said that Mom wouldn't have wanted this life for us and I shook it off but he was right. She wouldn't have and she sure as hell wouldn't be thrilled to know that you've pretty much written your youngest off as canon fodder before he was even old enough to defend himself! Even now, even dead, you can't look me in the damn face and say that you love us, that it would matter to you if neither of us made it out of this mess alive!" he yelled, swallowing the rage. "Was Sam supposed to survive that summer, Dad? Was he supposed to live or was Saunders supposed to kill him?" when no answer came, his fury exploded and he grabbed his father's shirt. "Damn you, answer me! Was Sam supposed to live?" 

"No!" John snapped, shoving his eldest away more violently than he intended. "Dean!"

Not fully braced for the shove, Dean fell back to strike his head on the edge of the old table and laid still, stunned.

"Damn it, John!" Bobby snapped, thrusting up his shotgun to halt the man's movement toward his prone son when a sudden flash of light flooded the barn. "Aw, crap. Now what?" he groaned, hoping this wasn't a heavenly horde deciding to pay them a visit.

John had shielded his eyes on old habits until the light dimmed to allow the willowy silhouette to be shown and then he wished he hadn't looked as pain started to grow in the heart that his son said was cold. "Mary."

"Step back and stay away, John because if you touch my son, either of my sons, again I will make you sorrier than you have been in years," Mary Winchester appeared as she had the last night of her life, dressed in the same white nightgown. The soft gentle look that she had once given her two sons appeared as cold firm hunter's eyes when she gazed at her husband.

Dean stirred, groaning about lake monsters and pain in the ass little brothers when he finally looked up and froze. "Mom? Shit, Sammy hits me and nothing. I hit a table and it's concussion city."

Mary knelt down next to him, carding long gentle fingers through his short hair with the same loving smile that he still recalled as a child. "I'm not sure where you got your sarcasm from but keep it. It'll help keep you from going too serious," she smiled, cupping his face. "I know you and Sam haven't had the easiest of times lately, Dean and I wish that I could take back what I allowed to happen but then you wouldn't be here and neither would your brother. Just remember what you told me the day you first saw Sammy and it will all be fine."

Brushing a kiss over her eldest son's forehead, Mary then stood to come between Dean and John, her hand flat out against his chest. "And you, I can almost forgive your vengeance trip to find what killed me, John but I can not and I will not forgive what you did to our sons. Not just the emotional crap you put them through but you actually thought I'd let you put your hands on my boys and not be angry?" she shook her head, eyes cool. "You let our baby be hurt, you told Dean to kill the only person he has honestly ever loved and this you thought would be fine with me?"

"Mary, I was just trying to…" John looked down at his son before his wife. "I had to prepare them, Mary. Once I knew about the demon blood inside Sammy…god so much of me wanted to…"

A sharp blow to his chest took him back several steps. "If you ever try to harm one of them again, I can still show you some of what my Dad taught me, John," she warned, looking as Dean struggled to his feet. "Stay strong and don't let anyone come between you and your brother, Dean. No matter what it may sometimes look like, he still needs you. I love you both."

Mary smiled before the light built again but before she vanished, her hand grabbed her husband's arm and when the light vanished only Dean and Bobby remained in the barn.

"We love you, Mom," Dean whispered, reaching up to feel the lump on his head and taking a shaky breath. "You know that Sam can never learn about this, right?"

Bobby had stayed silent while the boy adjusted to what he had seen and learned tonight. Now he rolled closer, took the shotgun from Dean's shaky hands and nudged him forward. "Hey, I played cards with Ellen all night so how do I know what you did?"

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean looked to the house and frowned. "Damn it, he's awake."

Not even bothering to ask how he knew that, Bobby allowed Dean to push him back to the house where Castiel was waiting on the porch and Ellen was heard inside trying to be reasonable with an unreasonable still in shock young Winchester.

"Sweetie, you've been through a hell of a lot in the past few days and I don't care if that fever did break, you are not going outside in the night air to catch a chill and wind your butt back in that bed," she was saying, planting herself firmly in front of a clearly worried, very agitated Sam Winchester.

It would have been a comical sight considering that Ellen was half of Sam's size and weight but seeing how easy it was for her to hold his little brother still made Dean concerned.

"Sammy," he only had to speak that one word to have his brother's attention drawn from Ellen to himself in a heartbeat and then he, much to his surprise, had his arms full of a shaking Sam who held on tight to Dean. "Whoa, what's this about? I was just outside with Bobby."

Sam's arms had wrapped around his brother tightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I saw Mom, Dean," he mumbled, fists gathering bunches of Dean's jean jacket. "I woke up and she was standing by the bed, just watching me. Then she looked confused, then angry and told me to come find you. That you were alright but that you needed me and…" he stopped when he caught site of the bruise forming on his brother's head and the thin line of blood. "Dean, what happened?"

"Nothing, Sammy," Dean eased back, keeping a hand on his brother as he headed him back to the stairs while Ellen stepped back. "I'm…fine."

Stopping at the steps, Sam just plopped down on a step to look at Dean and read the pain he was covering. Pain that was usually only caused by one person and he thought of his mother's words and the soft oath she had muttered before disappearing. "Dean, what did you do?" he asked softly. "You summoned Dad, didn't you? That's why he was cut outta the photo in your wallet. Why, what happened?"

Too many questions spoken all at once, the thin sheen of sweat on Sam's face told Dean that the fever had broke and it had left his brother tired, worried, and scared all at once.

Knowing that even though he had vowed never to hide things from Sam again, Dean was firm that his baby brother would never learn what their father had said this night. Better for Sam to keep what little good memories of John that he had and allow Dean to help him cope with the more bitter ones.

Of course, that didn't mean he's outright lie either. Sitting down next to him on the step, Dean pulled his leather jacket tighter around Sam once he noticed that his brother was carrying it like a security blanket. Pushing damp hair back so he could see Sam's eyes, he was relieved to see that while they were tired, they were also clear.

"I buried our past, little brother," he finally responded, seeing those eyes wrinkle in confusion. "It's just you and me, Sammy. It doesn't matter what the Angels or the Devil says, we will fight 'em all and we'll win or lose but we will do it together. The Winchester boys together like it always has been and if anyone screws with you…"

"You'll feed 'em their lungs," Sam quoted, remembering another time his big brother had spoken those words and smiled weakly. "Hey, Dean?"

Slipping an arm around his brother, Dean eased Sam to his feet and suddenly remembered how hard it could be to move Sam around when he was sick. "Yeah, Sammy?" he heard the unspoken question in the other voice but was concentrating on just getting up the steps without having to ask Cas for help since he doubted if Sam would be willing to let himself be touched by anyone but his brother yet.

"After we're better, Ellen suggested a case we could have," Sam yawned, but struggled to keep his eyes open to watch his brother.

"That's cool, little brother," Dean acknowledged without much thought then smirked. "The last case she openly gave us had killer clowns, Sam."

Another yawn and he grabbed Dean's arm to stay upright even as he was being lowered back to his bed. "Nah, last case she tossed us was the serial killer with Jo," he corrected, blinking as he felt Dean sit next to him on the bed. "This is a nice little place in Michigan."

"Yeah?" something about the tone told Dean that he was being setup but allowed it to happen just so he could see his brother happy again. Leaning up against the headboard of Sam's bed, he waited while his little brother snuggled into a prone position next to him. "What's the critter we'd be hunting?"

A small almost giggle was heard from Sam as he lifted his head enough to meet wry eyes. "Locals say it's a lake monster in a real lake this time, De'n," he grinned. "I told her that you love to check out lake monsters and…hey!"

Dean's hand splayed over his brother's face to push it back down before curling his fingers through shaggy hair that was just soft enough to remind Dean of when his brother had been a baby. "Shut up and go to sleep…bitch," he growled, though the laugh in his voice took any sting from the words.

"You first…jerk," Sam returned sleepily, falling asleep next to his brother and felt at ease for the first time in three years.

Waiting to be sure Sam was asleep fully and resting easily, Dean finally smiled. Letting his hand move from his brother's hair down to his back where he began moving it in a familiar soothing motion and he began to fall to sleep as well. He'd let Bobby and Ellen clean the bump on his head in the morning. Right then, all Dean wanted was to sleep and as he looked down to see that Sam had moved closer like he would as a child, he relaxed fully.

He knew that he and Sam still had issues to resolve but he was determined that he'd keep at least one promise and that was the one he made the first day he'd laid eyes on his little brother. "Don't worry, Sammy. Big brother will always be there to protect you," he whispered, closing his eyes and going to sleep.

Neither Winchester brother was awake or aware when a blanket was gently laid over them. Nor did they feel the soft touch of a mother's hand brush over faces that she vowed to protect. "Sleep, my baby boys," Mary whispered, adding over her shoulder. "Protect my sons, Castiel. You owe them that much."

"I owe them that and more, Mary," Castiel murmered from the door where he had chosen to stand watch over his new friends but wondered if he should inform Bobby about that little problem with his kitchen before the older man found… 

"What the hell did that featherbrained idjit do the trash compactor?" Bobby yelled from downstairs, growling about stupid idjit boys and angels being the death of him even before the Apocalypse.

**The End**

_A/N: Well, that's it for this one, folks. Thanks to everyone who has read it, chose it as a favorite, and reviewed. Your words mean so much and I'll catch up on the replies soon, promise._


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